


USUK Oneshots

by VacantCanadian



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Christmas Party, Drunk Bad Touch Trio, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mistletoe, My First Smut, Oneshot, Pottertalia, Ratings may change, Spiders, USUK - Freeform, USUK kiss, cuteness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:29:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 18,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5278493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VacantCanadian/pseuds/VacantCanadian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just oneshots. Lots of oneshots. Some fluffy, some angsty, some just there. But all USUK.</p><p>RATINGS MAY CHANGE</p><p>Updates when I feel like it</p><p>-On indefinite hiatus bc i kind of fell out of the fandom oops-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Under The Mistletoe (Genius Title is Genius)

Arthur fished his keys out of his pocket, starting for the door. This party had been an absolute horror. He didn’t even remember why he had agreed to come. The dim lights, the drunk coworkers, the garish Christmas decorations…all of it was terrible. The Englishman had never before felt so embarrassed before.

 

            “Hey, Arthur, where you going?” He felt a hand grip his shoulder and whirled around to face the three men responsible for his humiliation. Francis had been the one to call out and grab the Brit, and he now leaned on his two slightly less tipsy friends for balance with a devilish smirk on his face and a vile gleam in his blue eyes. His two companions, Antonio and Gilbert, snickered at the look on Arthur’s face, which was a slight shade of pink. “Don’t you want to talk to your old friend, _mon cher?”_ The Frenchman asked, his words slurred from excess alcohol.

 

            “Get the hell away from me, you bloody git!” Arthur snarled, feeling his face heat up at the memory of what Francis had done just mere moments ago, before the British man had tried to exit. He knew Francis wasn’t usually like this. Sure, he would endlessly tease the Brit, but the two Europeans were actually very close friends, and the Englishman knew this was the alcohol talking.

 

            The Frenchman stepped closer to Arthur, cupping his chin in his hands so that the smaller blonde couldn’t turn his head. “ _Mon ami,_ you and I were in the middle of something, _non?”_ Francis smirked and pulled the Brit’s face closer to his own, until he could smell the wine on the French man’s breath.

 

            Arthur, filled with outrage, reflexively shoved both of his hands into the Francis’s chest. The taller blonde hit the floor, and struggled for a few moments to regain his breath. Antonio and Gilbert stared at the Brit in awe, totally shocked by his outburst. The Englishman felt a few seconds of guilt, but then shook it off and fled. _You can say sorry later, when he’s not completely drunk,_ he told himself.

 

            The small blonde ran towards the doors, trying to disappear into the crowd of coworkers as he did so. He was five feet from the door when a hand grabbed his wrist. He whipped around to face the person who’d gripped him; sure Francis had followed him again, but instead he found himself facing Alfred Jones, the host of the party and the one who’d personally invited him.

 

            “Hey Arthur, what’s wrong? You’re not leaving, are you?” his American coworker asked. The Brit felt himself go a slight shade of pink just hearing him speak directly to him. Arthur had been a bit obsessed with Alfred when he had first joined the company, and while he hated admitting it to himself, the Englishman had a terribly large crush on the taller blonde. This fact, however, didn’t stop the small European from considering the American a complete git, and acting accordingly.

 

            “Bloody hell yes, I’m leaving!” Arthur spat at his coworker, completely flustered. The American hadn’t let go of his hand. The Brit’s heart and mind were racing at top speed. _Why is he still holding my hand? He shouldn’t still be holding my hand. Not that I mind that he’s still holding my hand. But still._

 

            “Why’s that, Artie?” The taller blonde asked, blue eyes gleaming with concern.

“I just am. I’ve had more than I can handle tonight.” The Brit summoned up quite a bit of willpower and pulled his hand away from Alfred’s and walked over to the door, only to once again become trapped in the American’s grasp.

 

“Honestly, Arthur, what happened? I can help you if you want!” The Englishman was surprised at the anxiety in the American’s voice. He actually sounded as if he was worried for the small blonde. It couldn’t be, however. The American was always hanging around his crowd of rowdy coworker friends, constantly in the center of attention. He and Arthur rarely got the chance to talk, not that they were trying to make time for chatting in the first place.

 

“Nothing happened, it was just…Well, I was…And Francis…” The Brit’s voice trailed off, not wanting to finish the humiliating story. He felt his face grow hot and looked down, embarrassed. Alfred seemed to sense his discomfort, and took his hand again, which, of course, just made the Englishman blush harder.

 

“I’m sorry, dude. At least let me take you to your car.”

 

“Oh, no, I’m not drunk.” He really wasn’t. It had been living hell; resisting the assortments of alcohol that that sat temptingly on the tables, but he knew if that he had even a little he had a two hundred percent chance of making a drunken fool out of himself. “I’m just fine. Actually, I think my car’s parked near the other door, and I don’t want to trouble you, so I’ll just-“

 

Arthur’s flow of nervous speech came to a halt. The taller blonde didn’t appear to be listening to him. Instead, his eyes were focused on the top of the doorframe they were standing in. The Brit was about to ask him what the big idea was, but then he looked up and saw the cluster of mistletoe stationed above the two men. The Englishman’s face promptly turned a brilliant shade of red. At this point, you could have mistaken him for Rudolph’s nose.

 

Alfred looked back from the mistletoe to Arthur, who began to stutter wildly. He seemed to have lost the ability to form words. After a few moments of senseless chattering, he had the sense to close his mouth. The American studied the small blonde for a moment, and then laughed softly. All the Brit could do was stare.

 

After a few moments of silence, the Englishman began to speak, “I-“ but was immediately rendered speechless again when his blue-eyed coworker took his chin in his hand and pulled him in until the two blondes’ faces were mere inches apart. Arthur’s eyes grew wide as he stared into his coworker’s topaz-blue eyes. He had noticed their beauty a million times over before, but only now had he gotten the chance to see them up close: big and blue and beautiful. Inside his head, a million mini-Arthurs were running around screaming, throwing things, and setting other things on fire. He simply didn’t know how to respond. Luckily, he didn’t have to. Alfred did it for him.

 

The American leaned in and pressed his lips to Arthur’s.

 

The Englishman’s green eyes widened in complete shock. Was this happening? Yes, it was happening… the warmness and softness of the taller blonde lips was more real than anything Arthur could have daydreamed. After a few seconds of trying to comprehend exactly what was happening, the Englishman gave up and leaned into the American’s warm embrace, trying to let himself savor the moment instead of getting excited and ruining it. For several moments, the two coworkers stood there, under the mistletoe, kissing. And it was perfect.

 

Eventually, Arthur felt Alfred pull away from him, and while he was disappointed that the embrace had to end, he let the American withdraw. The Brit opened his eyes and noticed that his blonde coworker also looked a bit flushed. Upon seeing the smaller man’s face, Alfred gave a small smile.

 

“Have a safe trip, Artie.” He spoke softly. “Merry Christmas.” With that, he disappeared back into the crowd.

 

“Merry Christmas.” Arthur breathed back, still in a daze from what had just happened. “Yeah. Merry Christmas.” He distractedly walked out of the door, forgetting that he had parked his car on the other side of the building.

 

_“Merry Christmas.”_

 


	2. Spidereses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> England is in distress, and America the hero comes to his rescue!

America paused to take in the scene before him. His boyfriend was crouching on top of a chair, barely breathing, staring down at the floor in terror with his wide green eyes. The object of said terror was a spider. Not all that big, just about two inches across, speckled with different shades of brown. The little arachnid lay still, as if confused by a certain Brit’s strange behavior. America looked up from the floor to England.

 

“Iggy…It’s a spider.”

 

“So?” Britain turned to face the younger nation, a bit flushed. “It’s st-still repulsive!” He spat, looking down at the spider once again, fear still in his eyes.

 

America shrugged. “So why don’t you just kill it?”

 

“Because!” England sputtered indignantly, his face turning much more pink as he looked down at the floor, embarrassed. “…I don’t wanna touch it.” He said softly. “It’s gross.”

 

The younger nation sighed and rolled his eyes, smiling. “Oh boy, England…” He chuckled. “Oh, boy…” He moved his gaze back to his boyfriend. “Don’t move.” He deadpanned.

 

“I won’t,” the Brit promised.

 

America walked to the kitchen, fetched the smaller nation’s old newspaper, and walked back to where the horrified Englishman stood on his chair. The American brandished his weapon and brought it sailing down on the unsuspecting arachnid, promptly murdering the unwanted bug. Standing back up, the younger nation flashed the unfortunate spider’s carcass, which was still stuck to the newspaper, at England, who squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered.

 

“America, that’s disgusting!” Britain squealed, sliding off of the chair he had been taking refuge in.

 

“What? I killed it. It’s dead, and it can’t hurt you anymore. See?” The American smiled devilishly, shaking his weapon in front of his boyfriend tauntingly. The former pirate let out a high-pitched shriek and retreated behind his chair. The blue-eyed country roared with laughter.

 

“What, you got arachnophobia or something?” He asked, tossing the newspaper in a nearby trashcan.

 

“What’s it to you if I do? Git!” England added ferociously, peeking out from behind his chair.

 

America walked over and pulled his boyfriend away from the chair and into his embrace.

 

“Now Iggy, is that any way to talk to the guy who just saved you from that terrifying spider?” He smirked.

 

The Brit sighed and wrapped his arms around his lover. “No, I suppose it’s not…” He whispered, rubbing his cheek into the younger nation’s shirt. After a few seconds, he looked up at the taller blonde, his emerald green eyes full of mock contriteness.

 

“Thank you for saving me, America,” The Brit said, struggling to contain a smile. “You’re my hero.” The Englishman got on his tiptoes and lightly kissed the American’s cheek.

 

“I love it when you say that.”

 

“I know you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello, Everyone! How was your Thanksgiving break? (If you had one…because maybe you didn’t. But oh well.) Mine was great, but it lacked a Wifi connection, so I wrote up a bunch of chapters over the long weekend, and if you’re reading this, then I probably managed to post them at school. So, yeah, this oneshot…This is from some OTP prompt thing I saw a long time ago that asked you which member of your OTP would be the one standing on a chair screaming at a spider and which one would reluctantly come kill it. I wanted to write a screaming England. I honestly did. But Your Royal Pirate just would not let me write him like that, now would you? //Glares pointedly at Iggy-san// ANYWAYS, hope you enjoyed this little bit of fluffery! I enjoyed writing it! Comments and kudos are not only appreciated, they are rewarded with Matthew hugs (You know you want a Canadian hug. You know you do.)! Have a wonderful whatever-day-of-the-week-it-is! (It was a Monday when I wrote this.)
> 
> Signing Off,
> 
> @FabulousFerret


	3. The American Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does Alfred dream of when he falls asleep? Find out...

_That’ll be enough for tonight,_ Arthur thought, dog-earing the page in his novel and quietly closing it. He slid it onto the nightstand and turned to his boyfriend, who was leaned back casually onto his pillow while flipping through TV channels, and shook his shoulder.

 

“Turn the telly off Alfred, I’m going to bed.” He declared, causing a pout to form on the taller blonde’s lips.

 

“Aw, come on, Artie! Can’t I keep it on just a little bit longer?” Alfred whined.

 

“You’re not even watching anything!” The Brit protested. “Now turn it off before I make you go sleep on the couch.”

 

The American sighed in defeat and, with one last remorseful glance at the Technicolor screen, switched off the television. He glanced at his lover, who was turning off the lamp on his side of the bed.

 

“What book were you reading, sweetheart?” Alfred’s voice sounded out in the darkness.

 

“ _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,”_ Arthur replied. “And please refrain from using those ridiculous pet names of yours.”

 

“Haven’t you already read that book? And every other book in the series? A hundred times over?” The taller blonde asked, disregarding the pet name comment.

 

“Yes, but it never hurts to reread the good ones.” The Brit answered, now nestling down into his pillow.

 

“The tears you’ve shed over Dumbledore’s death beg to differ.”

 

“Shut up, git! ...He was a good wizard.”

 

“Whatever you say.”

 

Alfred leaned over and kissed Arthur’s head. “G’night, baby.”

 

Arthur pecked the American’s cheek in return. “Good night, Love.”

 

And with that, Arthur’s boyfriend collapsed back onto his pillow. In minutes, the deep breathing that signaled the taller blonde’s descent into sleep were heard by the Englishman. The Brit sighed happily. _I wonder what that stupid wanker dreams about,_ Arthur thought as he drifted into unconsciousness.

 

_Alfred was just riding into town when he heard the bloodcurdling shriek pierce the air. He turned his head just in time to hear the shouts and laughter of outlaws coming from the town bank, and a voice with a thick English accent scream, “Someone, please help me!” Alfred knew that voice. He would know that voice anywhere._

_He quickly dismounted his horse and burst through the swinging doors, pistol in hand. Five criminals stood in a circle in the bank’s lobby. The doors to the vaults were all completely demolished. And the person who had cried out for help was surrounded by the burglars, bound to a chair by a length of rope._

_“Sheriff Jones!” Arthur, the town’s bank teller, called to him. His hands and ankles were confined with more rope, and a piece of cloth tied around his neck suggested that he had been gagged, but managed to slip his head out of it. The American walked up to the stunned outlaws, smirking._

_“You might as well surrender now,” Alfred proclaimed. “The hero is here!” There was a moment of silence as the criminals took in the sight of the great sheriff, and it seemed as if the whole town was holding its breath until the ringleader spoke up._

_“Oh, sorry, are we bothering you?” The head burglar, an albino man clothed in black exclaimed, tone mocking. “We’ll just get out of your hair.” He turned to his cohorts. “Get the loot and go!” He barked, and the four followers quickly obeyed, grabbing sacks of money and running outside. The albino didn’t follow._

_His red eyes traveled to the captive Brit. “Oh, yeah,” The albino shot the American hero a winning smirk. “We’ll also be taking him.” He quickly cut loose the rope binding Arthur to the chair (his hands were still immobile), tossed him over his shoulder as if he were a sack of potatoes, and darted out of the bank._

_Alfred ran outside, seething as he watched the outlaws mount their horses, bounty in tow. He quickly straddled his own horse and dug the heels of his boots into the stallion’s side, causing the steed to begin galloping at a breakneck pace. As he neared the group of criminals, he pulled out his pistol, aiming it at the ringleader. The albino just clicked his tongue at him, still smirking._

_“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolded, holding up the kidnapped teller in front of him like a meat shield. “Don’t want your poor baby to get hurt, now do we?” The Brit thrashed in his bindings, then looked up and saw the gun pointed at him, and his expression turned from one of anger to one of fear. The Sheriff instinctively lowered his gun. The head burglar smiled._

_“Checkmate, boy.” he taunted. Outraged, the American grabbed the tail of the ringleader’s horse, causing it to slow down, and the albino’s smirk morphed into a scowl. In a quick movement, he drew forth his own pistol and pressed it against Arthur’s temple._

_“One more move and I shoot!” he warned. Alfred gritted his teeth. It seemed like they were at an impasse. His eyes wandered from the criminal and the terrified Englishman to his gun hand. It was positioned right over…_

_Without a moment to lose, the sheriff squeezed the trigger, sending a bullet into the ringleader’s horse’s leg. Giving out an agonized whinny, it collapsed to the ground. For a split second, the American felt bad for the horse, he hated to hurt animals in any shape or form. But he shook it off as he dismounted his stallion and ran with pistol in hand to face the two men crumpled on the ground; it was for the greater good. Alfred rushed to the disoriented outlaw and snatched his gun before he could respond._

_When the albino finally realized what was happening, his hand automatically went for his pistol, only to find nothing but empty space. The sheriff pointed both weapons at the criminal, breathing hard._

_“I’m going to spare you, just this once,” The American told him, watching the albino’s fearful face, “Under these conditions: One, don’t ever let me catch you in my town again. Two, don’t even think about robbing anyone else ever again. Three…” Alfred brought his face closer to the burglar’s, scowl more prominent then ever._

_“_ If you ever lay a finger on Arthur ever, ever again, you will be very, very sorry. _Understand?” he growled. The criminal nodded rapidly._

_“Good.” The sheriff backed away from the man. “Now, leave. Before I change my mind.” The albino nodded again and scampered away hurriedly._

_The American then turned to the Brit, who hadn’t uttered a sound during this round of threatening. He continued to stare in awe at the man who had just saved him as he began to untie the Englishman’s limbs. After he was freed, Alfred stretched out a hand towards the overwhelmed man and helped him to his feet. For a few moments, Arthur was silent, just blinking up at his rescuer with his large, brilliantly green eyes._

_“You saved me,” The Brit breathed._

_“Think nothing of it,” The American replied._

_“Alfred,” The Englishman whispered, drawing closer to the taller blonde._

_“You’re my hero.”_

_The sheriff and the teller’s lips met, and Alfred slowly wrapped his arms around the Brit. A few moments later, Arthur pulled away._

_“Alfred?” he said tenderly._

_“Yes?”_

“Alfred! Wake up, you bloody git!”

 

Alfred blinked his eyes sleepily. Arthur was standing over him in bed, frowning.

 

“Artie, why’d you wake me up?” The taller blonde whined, pouting.

 

“Because I made your coffee already, and it’s getting cold. Now get out of bed.” The Brit shoved the American, though playfully, trying to hide a smile at seeing his lover so groggy. Usually Arthur was the one being dragged kicking and screaming out of the bed.

 

“Well, I wish you hadn’t…I was having the greatest dream.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Yeesh. I have more chapters on than I do on my legit story. More views here, too. Ah well. Anyways, did you enjoy my cliché cowboy fluffery? I considered doing a Captain America-themed dream (BEST AVENGER FIGHT ME), but for some reason it just felt right to do cowboys. Maybe I’ll do a sequel one like that. Also, Prussia ended up as my villain. Not completely sure how that happened. Anyways, thanks for taking the time out of your day to read my trash! //smiles// Kudos and comments are highly appreciated! Almost (I think) 100 views! WOOP WOOP! Keep it coming! CANADA HUGS 4 DAYZ! 
> 
> Signing Off,
> 
> @FabulousFerret


	4. Pop goes the Question (Damn that pun was bad...)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Engagement scene ;)

Alfred rang the doorbell gingerly, very nervous about the outcome of tonight. Of course, he had taken Arthur out to dinner a million times over, but everything had to be perfect for his boyfriend. Fate had never been particularly kind to the American, more than once the two men’s dates had been ruined by chance, but they usually just found a way to laugh it off. But if Alfred failed tonight…He didn’t know what he would do with himself.

The taller blonde’s train of thought was interrupted when his lover opened the door. The Brit wore his usual attire, a white button-down shirt, a red tie, gray slacks, although his trademark sweater vest was absent. Honestly, the American couldn’t have cared less what he was wearing. He was just glad to see the smaller boy’s green eyes glinting with content as he smiled up at the sight of Alfred at his door. 

“So, you came.” Arthur stated, pretending to deadpan. This was the way he had always greeted him when he showed up at his door for an ‘arranged meeting’ (The Brit had always been a bit tsundere towards his boyfriend, even though after five years the American had obviously seen through his grumpy demeanor). 

“Of course I did,” the taller blonde joked. “When have I ever disappointed you?” Alfred smirked, leaning against the doorway. 

“Oh, I can name a few times…” Arthur shoved his lover playfully, stepping outside of his apartment and closing the door. The American watched as he took his took his keys out of his pocket and locked the door in one swift move, then turned back to the other blonde. The Englishman looked Alfred up and down, and then met his eyes with a look of mild surprise. 

“You’re more dressed up than usual,” He commented. This wasn’t untrue: a button down shirt and tie, while protocol for his lover, wasn’t really standard for Alfred. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah! Chill, Artie, your bae’s got it all under control!” The American boasted, trying to mask his anxiety with exuberance. He grabbed the Brit’s hand, who was protesting that no one was anyone’s ‘bae’, and pulled him all the way to the parking lot. The traffic was surprisingly mild for a Saturday evening, and soon the two blonde’s had reached their restaurant of choice (Alfred usually tried to surprise Arthur, but he didn’t want to mess up on this particular night, and so he let the Englishman help choose their dining spot).   
As soon as the two boys were seated (Alfred pulling out Arthur’s chair first in order to serve his ‘queen’, a nickname that resulted in him taking a quick blow to the shoulder), words began to quickly flow between them, as if someone had taken out corks from the back of their throats, releasing the stream of intoxicating chatter that they so loved to share with each other. Jokes were exchanged, opinions discussed, and every now and then one blonde would subtly flirt with the other, rustling the butterflies in the stomach of the receiver of said affection. 

The night was coming to a close, yet Alfred still hadn’t done what he so desperately needed to do. He waited for Arthur to conclude his current statement, and then took a deep breath.

“Is something wrong, love?” The Brit asked tentatively, green eyes filled with concern in an instant at his boyfriend’s silence. 

“Arthur,” The American started, ignoring the question and meeting his lover’s eyes. “As you know, we’ve been together a very long time, and we’re very comfortable where we are now…but I’ve been thinking.”

The Englishman sucked in a breath, suddenly nervous.

“I absolutely love being around you. You’re everything I could want in a partner: Caring, Intelligent, Funny, Kind…” Arthur snorted at the last description. 

“I’m serious!” Alfred whined, pouting at his boyfriend with big blue puppy-dog eyes. 

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Arthur hastily murmured, still grinning, however. “Please continue.”

 

“As I was saying, I love you, and you’re perfect. At least to me, you’re perfect.” Alfred took another deep breath, and pulled put his hand in his pocket, grabbing the small box that was going to seal the deal. 

“In fact, I can’t think of anyone more perfect…for me to spend the rest of my life with.” He pulled the small parcel covered in black velvet out of his pocket and over the table, and flipped it open to reveal an engagement ring with a silver band and a single centered diamond. Arthur gasped and clapped both hands over his mouth in shock and ecstasy. 

“Arthur Henry Kirkland…” Alfred beamed when he saw happy tears pooling in his lover’s eyes. “Will you marry me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: CLIFFHANGER //lE GASP Just kidding this is a oneshot and I’m pretty sure everybody knows that Iggy and the Hero are totally in love and they go live happily ever after and all that cute yaoi stuff c: Sorry for the long dry spell, friends! I really haven’t been in the writing mood lately. I REALLY need to get back on Lovely Hallucinations. I’m so lazy and unmotivated. I’m just not really sure where to go with that story. If you have suggestions, though, send them to me! I NEED THEM NOTEPAD TOOK AWAY MY CREATIVITY AND MY GREEN CRAYONS AND I CRIED D: But yeah, comments and kudos are appreciated, so please leave them beauties! (I’m really starting to sound like a broken record :c) See y’all around! (That’s right. I live in Southeastern America, and I WRITE FANFICS AND HAVE LITTLE TO NO INTEREST IN SEC FOOTBALL. DEAL.)
> 
> Signing Off,
> 
> @FabulousFerret
> 
>  
> 
> (P.S. Wow that was short)


	5. The Tag (I don't even it's just a Youtuber prompt OK stop judging my bad titles)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I found an FrUk idea on tumblr (I don't remember who wrote it but creds to them I guess :/) and so I made it usuk yaay

Arthur felt somewhat cations as he took a step into his rival's bedroom. The day of the collaboration video had been planned weeks in advance, seeing as the Brit was going to have to cross an ocean to reach the other YouTuber, but he still felt as if he was in the dark. He didn't even know what was going on in the video. And after all these years of competition... Arthur wasn't sure  _what_ to think. 

 

Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland had always been YouTubing rivals. Both had very similar channels with analogous content (Although Alfred did a lot more Let's Plays, and Arthur posted much more music). The two boys were always extremely competitive over views, likes, subscriptions, everything. Alfred claimed that people only liked Arthur because he was British, while Arthur thought that Alfred's channel was rather 'undignified '. So when a certain Brit received an email from his long-time rival asking about meeting up to do a collab video, he was shocked. However, he didn't want to seem upset over a simple Internet rivalry, so he had agreed, and the two had made arrangements to meet in Alfred's town, New York City (Which Arthur hated to admit to himself, really was an astonishing place), and film this 'mystery video' that Jones had in mind. 

 

The European had asked several times about the subject of said video, but every time he inquired, the American had hastily changed the topic of conversation or something had come up. The entire plane ride, the Brit had pondered what might be going on in Alfred's head (Well, okay, maybe not the  _entire_ plane ride...Downton Abbey was on). He had been competing with Alfred long enough to have a basic idea of how his brain worked. In his videos, he was generally short and sweet, quick to blurt whatever entered his mind, so this secretive side of him was unknown territory to Arthur. 

 

Even in the unending sea of people in the NYC airport, Kirkland was quick to spot the blonde cowlick that signaled Jones. The moment the American's eyes locked on the Brit's, his whole face lit up in a dazzling smile that set his sapphire blue eyes ablaze and sent the corners of his mouth all the way up to his cheekbones, showcasing a set of pearly white teeth. Damn, Arthur wished his teeth were that nice. 

 

Alfred then continued to walk up to the Brit and say something to him, but that didn't matter because he had stopped in his tracks, green eyes widening as they tried to take the scene. Alfred F. Jones, in person, talking to him and smiling his  _bloody amazing_ smile at him.  _Wait, what?_ Arthur shook his head, trying to rid himself of an odd feeling he couldn't quite name. 

 

"S-sorry, what was that? I didn't quite catch it. Must be the jet lag." Arthur stuttered, wildly disoriented.

 

"Oh, no worries, dude! I was just saying I'm glad you made it." The taller boy cheerily responded. "Come on, let's go outside and hail a cab. You hungry? It's dinner where you live, right?"  

 

Kirkland's stomach rumbled in reply, and he felt his face heat up in embarrassment. "Yeah, sure, whatever," he mumbled to his shoulder. After a couple of cab rides and an early lunch for Jones/dinner for Arthur, they found themselves in the American's apartment. 

 

"Kiku's sorry he couldn't be here to meet you in person as well, but he's going to see family. You know how it is." Alfred punctuated his statement with a shrug. 

 

"Oh, that's right, you and Kiku are roommates. I'd completely forgotten." The Brit replied, half to  Jones, half to himself  **(A/N: Thanks for that exposition, Arthur!)**. He was to busy taking in the room they were currently in to look the taller boy in the eye.

 

 The room was the weirdest mix of Japanese and American he had ever seen. The was a futon in the living room in the place of a couch, and the coffee table was littered with a mix of mangas, video game containers, anime seasons, Sports Illustrateds, etc., as well as every other flat surface in the room. The television was hooked up to many different game counsels at once, and an explosion of wires were coming out of the back. There were so many different posters on the wall that you could barely see the beige wallpaper anymore. It looked like everything in the house had something to do with some sort of game or anime. Well, except for the Star Spangled Banner throw blanket on said futon. 

 

Arthur looked to the American, whose cheeks were dusted pink. "It would probably be a lot neater if Kiku were here. I totally forgot to clean up. Sorry..." He smiled sheepishly. 

 

"No, it's fine. This is actually kind of what I expected it to look like." The Brit bit his lip, realizing that the last but might have stung, but when he turned his head back around the American looked completely oblivious to any unintended insult. He was just smiling innocently at Kirkland,  who was taking his first step to Alfred's room without any direction whatsoever... _Oh. Dammit._  


A tad bit flustered, he pointed his thumb at the entrance to what he supposed was Jones's bedroom (There was a huge Captain America poster on it) and raised his thick eyebrows. "Should we...?" 

 

"Oh!" The taller blonde smacked himself in the forehead with his palm. "Sorry, dude, I was just... distracted." 

 

With Alfred's consent now given, Arthur put a gentle hand on the doorknob and twisted it, letting himself in. The room looked the same as it did in the American's videos: Marvel merch strewn every which way, some bomber jacket hung carefully on the other side of the door, Computer and webcam set up opposite the door, closet wide open, showcasing different trinkets from different game sagas and superhero comics. Other than those special touches, the room was just any young adult's rented apartment room: twin bed, window boasting a stunning view of a brick wall (The webcam didn't face that part, understandably), etc. 

 

Instead of just one spin chair seated at the front of the open Mac, as was usual when the American filmed, there were now two, the second obviously being meant for the Brit. The taller blonde plopped himself down in one and gestured to the other one. Kirkland sat himself down and sat silently as Alfred turned on the computer with one hand and began to fiddle with his webcam with the other. Just now, Arthur realized that Jones had taken off his jacket, exposing his Arc Reactor T-shirt and (more importantly) his tanned arms. They were well-muscled and golden: the smaller blonde briefly remembered the American mentioning being born in California in one of his videos.

 

_Sun-kissed skin so hot we'll melt your Popsicle....Wait, What the bloody hell am I thinking?!_

The words "And we're filming in 3...2...1..." snapped Arthur out his enchanted state, and he quickly tried to remove the floaty look and embarrassed blush from his face as the camera clicked itself on. 

 

"Hey, y'all, it's Alfred again! What's up, dudes?" Alfred beamed at the webcam as if he were talking to a real person. "And as you can see, Arthur Kirkland has come down to New York to help me with this video!"

 

The Brit glanced at the camera with his usual bored look and gave a slight wave. "I have no idea what we're about to do." He deadpanned to the webcam.

 

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" The taller blonde asked, and Arthur could've sworn that beam of his morphed into something...softer. Gentler. "Dude, it's nothing big. I just needed to do a tag." 

 

Arthur frowned. _A tag? Really? Is that what you needed me to cross the Atlantic for?_  


Confused, the smaller blonde looked at Jones curiously. "Oh? What sort of tag?" He inquired.

 

Without warning, Alfred rolled his chair over to Arthur and leaned in so that their noses were inches apart. The Brit froze in shock. He could see every single detail in those blue eyes. Up close, they were like galaxies in a July afternoon's sky. They worked like a flame to a moth on Arthur, rendering him immobile. All he could do was stare as Alfred smiled softly at him.

 

"The boyfriend tag."

 

And with that, he grabbed the smaller blonde's head and kissed him. A squeak escaped the Brit. After a few moments of the American pressing their lips together, Kirkland snaked his arms around the taller blonde's neck, identifying that feeling he couldn't place in the airport: love. The two blonde's began to run their hands through each other's hair, taking turns dominating the kiss until they fell off their spin chairs. Even through all that, they didn't stop. 

 

And all the while, the camera was still rolling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: 
> 
> WOW OKAY SO THAT HAPPENED
> 
> That was officially the most passionate scene I've ever written, I'm not sure if it was too much, I was so embarrassed while writing this D: I'm not a creepy pervert, I SWEAR  
> I cannot believe I seriously wrote this while on multiple airplanes with strangers on my Mom's iPad like sUICIDE MISSION BBY >:) (This is my brave face.) Also, I wrote this whilst listening to Katy Parry on repeat, hence the random California Girls reference (Iggy ur so cray :P I love you anyways tho) . For those of you who might have not recognized the prompt, I found a prompt thing on tumblr with basically this same storyline, except it was FrUk and I was like 'CAN WE FIX IT? YES WE CAN!' (No offense to FrUk shippers. Ship who you want, man, I'm not hating and I'm pretty sure it happened at some point anyways) So, yeah, that was how this story came to be. Pfft, and you thought it was the stork. ANYWAYS KUDOS AND COMMENTS MY CHILDREN DO IT FOR MATTHEW SRSLY I HAVE LIKE ONE COMMENT ON THIS AND A BUNCH OF KUDOS SO LIKE PICK UP DAT SLACK AND GIMME SOME SPECIFICS ON MY WRITING pretty please
> 
> Signing Off, (I'm so tired and sick dammit),
> 
> @FabulousFerret


	6. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Points casually to title

It's been too many years since he loved me.

I'm not sure exactly how many years it's been, all I know is that any fraction of time in which he is indifferent or cold towards me is too much. His blue eyes pierce through me like daggers, as they always have, from the moment I first locked my gaze on his. I see him smile and knowing that that beautiful grin isn't aimed towards me destroys me. He doesn't know that, sometimes, I still cry, when the memories are killing me and the liquor can't quite drown out the thunderstorm and the gun and the hurt. I have no intention of telling him. He's too innocent, he'd never understand why the person who raised him could fall so hopelessly in love with him. But, for the love of God, I will never live to see a day where I don't constantly long for him to be mine again, to wish with all my heart for a chance to go back and knock some goddamned sense into my past self, who took him for granted. How could I have been so cruel and blind? He survives without me now. If countries could die, I would have succumbed to heartbreak long ago.

His cluelessness only hurts me more. I can't bring myself to tell him flat out of my pain, and his rose-colored glasses prevent him from looking back. Every year on his birthday, I pull out every form of alcohol I can find and try to drink myself into a state of oblivion. But distant memories of amber waves of grain soaked by a vast downpour and deadened blue eyes that match the storm continue to haunt me, and before I know it I'm sobbing uncontrollably, a mess of recollections. Just in case he ever finds this, when I'm long gone, I'll write it down:

I love you, America.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He hates me, and that kills me.

The hateful glare of those emerald eyes that used to be so filled with care makes me want to give everything up. He feels no more connection to me, sees me as a nuisance, an idiot. What happened to when he used to love me? Oh, wait. I destroyed all of that love in the revolutionary war. The last of his affection fell from his eyes to his cheeks and watered the grass the day he fell on his knees and told me I won. I cry remembering it, knowing that he broke down and I, being the heartless monster I am, just sat and watched. And now, today, I'm just the obnoxious American that, in his opinion, the world could do without. I hate myself for everything I did. Some hero I am. I can't even really enjoy my own birthday anymore. I want to tell him so badly that I still care about him, that I'm head over heels for him, but knowing the cruel rejection that would away me prevents me from following suit. I just want him to take care of me again, wrap me in his arms as he did so many years ago. And I want to take care of him, too. Oh, and just in case he reads this:

I love you, England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, guys! Sorry for my constant absence (aND HOW FRICKIN SHORT THIS POST IS //shot), I have been in Canadia as of recently. It has been a whir of maple, snow, and invisibility with my school friends. I wrote this on the plane to Montréal, and I'm coming home from Québec City tomorrow. Please remember to kudos and comment if you enjoyed or have a suggestion. I love you all! C:
> 
> Signing off,
> 
> @FabulousFerret


	7. Stalkin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is creeping.  
> Pottertalia, some profanity.  
> Heh.

Arthur Kirkland had plenty of hobbies.

He loved eagerly plowing through books, playing cricket, transfiguration class, and proving people wrong.

Oh, and he also liked stalking Alfred F. Jones.

It had begun innocently enough. At first, the only looks the Slytherin gave the Gryffindor were glares, convinced that he hated the young man. The American wizard had an overinflated ego, a knack for getting into trouble, and a constant hunger for attention and praise (at least from the other Hogwarts students). What wasn't there to hate? Arthur wasn't quite sure, but apparently it was something, because it seemed that every time Alfred's fave lit up in a radiating grin, the English wizard couldn't help but bask in its warm glow. The blue-eyed boy was undeniably attractive; Arthur always hated hearing the girls swoon when in the American's presence because it made him feel incredibly stupid for feeling the same way.

A bit after finally admitting to himself that he liked the Gryffindor, the Slytherin student found himself stopping in the hallways to watch him go by....

...Then following him though said hallways...

...Then stopping a few feet from wherever Alfred stopped...

...Then ducking behind the nearest big object to continue watching him....

...Okay, so maybe Arthur was a bit infatuated.

Just a bit.

This particular day was a sunny April's afternoon, and the Slytherin had just happened to take a couple wrong turns on his way to the common room and found himself at the Quidditch pitch, where Alfred just happened to be having his Quidditch practice. And, since he had the opportunity, the English boy decided that he might as well stoop behind the stands to watch the Gryffindor fly; His amber hair, which glowed in the light of the sun, being swept back by the breeze, and his sparkling blue eyes twinkling as he laughed giddily, and how he looked even more astounding without his glasses, had absolutely nothing to do with Arthur's watching, however.

Nothing at all.

After a couple entrancing hours of watching the American play, the Gryffindors soared down to the grass. Spotting his cue to leave, the Slytherin scurried from his hiding place. As he ran across the pitch, he thought he might have seen eyes on him, but he brushed away the thought as he hurried towards the castle entrance. He entered into the hall and breathed a sigh of relief. He thought he was safe until he heard a voice call from the entrance he had just gone through.

"Hey, Arthur!"

Bollocks.  
Arthur whirled around to face the smiling wizard who he had been shamelessly stalking for a few months now. The shock of having been spoken to by his breathtakingly handsome crush caused the Brit to momentarily forget how to speak English, and he struggled to choke out a formidable response.

"Er...H-Hello, Alfred." The Slytherin stuttered, his face burning. Had he been caught? Or was Alfred still oblivious to his constant watching?

"What're you doing out here? I thought you'd be in, like, the library or something." The Blue-eyed boy replied, grinning.

"W-Well...Um, I was j-just, er..." The English boy fumbled for an alibi, feeling even more embarrassed at himself as he completely and utterly failed to speak normally to his object of infatuation.

"Oh! Hey, dude, I just remembered, I wanted to find you so I could ask you something!" The American interrupted, saving Arthur from himself. He walked closer to the Slytherin, not so close that it was intimate, really just a normal distance for two people having a conversation, but anything was enough to put Arthur off.

"So, the next Hogsmeade trip is coming up..." The Brit didn't really process this part because his mind was whirring. Wait, Alfred wanted to ask him something? The two wizards weren't involved with each other. Sure, they had some classes together, and he knew the the Gryffindor was aware of his existence, but not so much as to actually want to talk to him, Arthur the know-it-all Slytherin WAIT DID HE SAY HOGSMEADE-

Arthur's train wreck of thought was brought to a screeching halt when he heard Alfred finish his sentence.

"...And so I thought maybe you'd like to...I don't know, go out with me then?"

Arthur thought he might faint then and there. Had he heard him correctly? Was Alfred asking him out on a...a date?

The American rubbed the back of his neck nervously upon seeing the Slytherin's expression. "I mean, if you don't want to that's totally fine, 'cause I know we don't know each other all that well, but I thought maybe we could, y'know..." The blond boy's rambling came to a halt and he looked at Arthur with a somewhat pleading face.

The English boy felt as if he had just floated into cloud nine. He couldn't believe it. But as he slowly let it sink in, he his face light up. He wanted to tell Alfred yes. He wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs, so loud that the entire school, the entire country, the entire world could here him. YES YES YES BLOODY HELL YES ALFRED F. JONES YOU BEAUTIFUL PIECE OF SHIT I WANT TO TAKE YOU AND SNOG YOU SO HARD AND YOU BEST BELIEVE THAT IF THIS GOES WELL I'M GOING TO SHAG YOU INTO BLOODY NEXT YEAR OH MY FUCKING GOD

"Um, yes, of course." Arthur breathed, "That would be wonderful."

"Oh, wow, great! Awesome! See you then, dude! Bye!" Alfred called to him, waving as he walked away. As he turned to walk in the opposite direction, the Slytherin heard a shout of "YES!". Then, to his surprise, an "Oh, wait, one more thing!".

The English boy turned around again, arms crossed. "What is it now-"

He was interrupted by a certain Gryffindor's lips pressed against his own, and two arms locking around his waist. Arthur let out a small mewl of surprise before he practically melted into Alfred's embrace, forgetting everything except that wonderful sensation of the American. The blue-eyed wizard had apparently expected it to be nothing but a small farewell peck, but the Slytherin couldn't stop himself from throwing his arms around his newfound lover's neck and eagerly prying his lips apart with his tongue, desperately devouring what he had craved for so long. The blue-eyed boy quickly followed suit, his tongue exploring through the other's mouth.

After several moments, Alfred was the once to break the kiss when he felt the Brit's restless hands clawing at his tie. "Whoa there, Arthur," he exclaimed breathlessly, pulling the yearning Slytherin off of him. "Why don't we wait until we've had at least one date before we cross that line?"

The English boy wanted desperately to scream at Alfred that he'd been waiting five bloody years for this, then shove him against the wall as begin rapidly stripping him. But as aroused as he was, Arthur understood the American's point, and he restrained himself. Besides, he was fearful that Alfred wouldn't want to be with him if he acted like a monstrous sex beast instead of a gentleman. Although disappointed, Arthur straightened himself up and nodded.

"S'pose you're right," he mumbled, abashed, "I apologize. I just...wasn't really thinking." He cleared his throat, blushing hard. "I've...been going through a bit a dry spell."

Alfred's blue eyes widened.

"You've had sex before?"  
"You're a virgin?"

The Gryffindor looked down, cheeks tinted pink. "Let's just say there aren't a lot of guys where I live that swing my way. So, yeah, I'm still a virgin."

"I might have to fix that."

"Huh?"

"Oh! Nothing."

Alfred just shrugged. "Kay, see ya round!" And with that, Arthur's crush-turned-lover walked away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> Yay, Pottertalia! I've wanted to wrote one of these for a while, and what better way to do it than a stalkerfic! This universe is so much fun to write about, so expect more of this in the future. Unless you guys say no. Then I won't. So, on the subject of the love of my babies...was it too weird? The random sex talk at the end? I'm not sure. I've been trying to get comfortable with the more steamy love scenes because I might experiment with smut. Do you guys want me to try to do that? I'm just trying to expand my variety. I will definitely warn y'all if I do wrote that kind of thing, but what do you think? Oh, and speaking of warning, I know there was a bit more vulgar langue in this particular fic courtesy of out little Brit, sorry if that bothered you. I'll try to warn ya'll. Anyways, KUDOS AND COMMENT FOR HUGS FROM MY SECOND FAVORITE COUNTRY CANADIA AWW YASS WHO DOESN'T LOVE MATTHEW HUGS HUGS DON'T LIE TO ME YOU LITTLE SHIT //shot dead
> 
> (I'm just kidding I love you guys)
> 
> Signing Off,
> 
> @FabulousFerret


	8. Musical (w a t)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hAMILTON REFERENCES //shot

A/N: There’s a rap in this story :/, here’s the song & lyrics:

http://genius.com/Lin-manuel-miranda-my-shot-lyrics

 

Arthur watched quietly from the other side of the room as the blond at the back desk nodded his head gently to the music coming through his headphones. A small smile played on Alfred’s lips, as he closed his eyes, letting the mysterious melody wash over him. Once again, the American’s friend had the impulse to go over and ask him what the song he was enjoying so much actually was, but quickly pushed the thought away. It couldn’t really be anything that interesting, could it? After all, it was Alfred. The only thing the Brit could ever see him liking was mindless pop.

 

The class bell rang and the teacher entered, snapping the small blond out of his thoughts. Arthur shifted his emerald gaze to the professor; assuming that his American friend would notice that the class had started and put away his headphones himself. It wasn’t until they were ten minutes into the lecture that the Brit saw Mr. Gwinnet’s eyes cast a suspicious glare to the back desks that he turned around and saw that not only had the taller blond not discontinued his listening session, he had begun to tap a rhythm with his fingers, and was quietly whispering the lyrics under his breath.

 

The green-eyed boy tried desperately to signal to his friend with his eyes, but it was too late. The teacher had already begun to walk over to Alfred’s desk, and there was nothing he could do but watch as Mr. Gwinnet loomed over his friend’s desk and unplugged Arthur’s friend’s headphones in one swift move. The American’s blue eyes snapped open and looked up at his professor in fear.

Oh, I’m sorry Mister Jones, were you enjoying that?” Gwinnet sneered, causing his pupils to snigger. Alfred looked around the room and flushed red in embarrassment.

 

“Um, I-I-“ he stammered, unsure of what to make of the situation.

 

The teacher gestured with his hand for Alfred to fork over his phone, and the student complied, handing it over while staring glumly at his desk. Mr. Gwinnet glanced at the phone’s screen.

 

“Stay behind after class, Alfred. I’ll return this to you then.” Gwinnet said solemnly. The blond nodded, and the teacher returned to his desk.

 

Arthur suddenly felt an overwhelming concern for his friend. Sure, he probably shouldn’t have been doing what he was doing, but he didn’t know, and he certainly didn’t deserve public humiliation as a consequence. The taller blond looked like he might cry, and the Brit had to resist the overwhelming urge to run over to him, wrap in a hug, and whisper comforting words in his ear while softly planting kisses all over his face-

 

The English boy grew red at his own thoughts and tried to put the idea of his hopeless crushing aside. Arthur couldn’t stand the American at the beginning of the year, but had eventually become close friends with him. It wasn’t until Alfred began to flirt with a girl in their history class that the Brit finally realized how smitten he was with the blue-eyed git. Even though the romantics had stopped three months ago, the small bond still had to resist the urge to growl when he passed her in the hall.

 

And so here he was, his hear slowly crumbling as he watched the American bite back tears.

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-

 

(this is definitely not a horrible divider what are you talking about)

 

Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Arthur held back until the only ones left in the room were Alfred, Mr. Gwinnet, and he. He cast the taller blond a concerned looked and cocked a thick eyebrow, silently asking if he needed support. The blue-eyed boy replied with a shake of his head. With that the Brit walked out of the classroom-and peered back inside. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the git alone, though he knew it was wrong.

 

“So,” Mr. Gwinnet said, standing and walking to where Alfred was. “Alexander Hamilton.” 

 

Alexander Hamilton? The English boy thought in confusion, Isn’t that an American founding father or something? Surely he misheard the professor.

 

“Yes, sir,” the taller blond replied, adjusting his glasses ever so slightly. “It’s a brilliantly written musical on his life and accomplishments-“

The teacher held up his hand for silence. “No need to explain it to me. I’m already familiar with it.”

 

The American’s blue eyes widened. “You are?” he asked excitedly.

 

“Yes. My daughter attends Julliard, and she has been quite infatuated with the production since she went to see it with her friend for her birthday-“

 

“WOW SHE ACTUALLY GOT TO SEE IT?!” Alfred yelled, then, seeing his professor’s expression, smiled sheepishly. “…Sorry. Continue.”

 

 

“-and so she convinced me to try it. I’m not really one for rap, but it is cleverly written and it is a quite moving production.” The blue-eyed student nodded enthusiastically. Mr. Gwinnet presented his phone to him.

 

“I’m giving this back to you under two assumptions: One, that you will no longer be using this device during class time-“

 

“No sir, I’m sorry-“

 

And two,” The professor smiled softly. “That you will use your rapping skills wisely, and for good cause. The world doesn’t need another drug-addict pop star with only one top-40 song as his claim to fame, it needs a person who can use their art to communicate something beautiful, like Lin-Manuel Miranda.” 

 

The taller blond smiled, blushing ever so slightly. “Nah, dude. LMM’s on, like, a whole different level than me. I could never be as good as him.”

 

“But it doesn’t hurt to try, now, does it? Work hard enough, and who knows-you could be the next casting of Alexander himself.”

 

The American gingerly took his phone back. “Thank you, sir.”

“My pleasure. Now, do you need a note? Your next class starts soon.”

 

“Oh, shit!” cursed Arthur, and with that, he ran down the hall.

 

;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-

 

When school went out, Arthur texted Allistor to inform him that he wouldn’t be taking the bus as per usual, he would instead stay at school for extra help and walk himself home. As soon as he got an accepting reply, he slipped out to the edge of the school’s courtyard, where he know Alfred would be waiting for his mom and/or twin brother. Leaning against a brick wall, the Brit could hear him rapping:

 

I’ma get a scholarship to King’s college,

I probably shouldn’t brag, but dag, I amaze and astonish,

The problem is I gotta lot of brains but no polish,

I gotta holler just to be heard, with every word,

I drop knowledge! 

 

I’m a diamond in the rough, a shiny piece of coal…

 

Arthur zoned out for a bit until a louder and more prominent part of the rap drew him back in.

 

…The plan is, to fan this spark into a flame,

But damn, it’s getting dark, so let me spell out my name,

I am the A-L, E-X, A-N, D

E-R, we are meant to be

A colony that runs independently

Meanwhile, Britain keeps shittin’ on us endlessly, (Arthur cringed.)

Essentially, they tax us relentlessly,

King George turns around, runs a spending spree,

He ain’t ever gonna set his descendants free,

So there will be a revolution in this century.

 

The smaller blond let the smooth tempo and lyrics of his crush’s song wash over him filling him with a sort of fiery defiance that was so clear in the American’s voice each time he spit out a verse. Alfred probably wouldn’t have ever known Arthur was there if he hadn’t fallen over into his friend’s field of view. The Brit blushed several shades of red as he felt a pair of sky blue-eyes gaze down at him.

 

“Arthur?” The taller blond asked as he helped his friend up from the ground. “Shouldn’t you be on the bus?”

 

“I thought I’d stay after and check on you after all that fuss in class,” The green-eyed boy answered truthfully (almost). “Are you okay? You looked rather upset.”

 

“Nah, it was okay. Gwinnet was pretty cool about it, let me off with a warning.” Alfred smiled softly, then his cheeks went a tad bit pink as he looked to me. “…How long were you there? Like, did you hear me-?”

 

“Yeah,” The Brit admitted. “You were good.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“What was it you were listening to again?” He already knew the answer; he just wanted to hear him say it again.

 

“Oh, just some musical… You probably wouldn’t know it-“

 

“Is it called Hamilton?” Arthur asked, before realizing if he acted too knowledgeable on the subject, and then couldn’t answer any questions about the musical, the blue-eyed boy might catch onto his eavesdropping. Luckily for him, the American was a bit daft, and he was able to save himself with a quick, “Because, you know you were rapping and you said it was a musical and-“

 

“I said his name in the song?” Alfred quirked a brow, and Arthur looked to the ground.

 

“Er, y-yeah.” The taller blonde nodded and slumped to the ground, his back to the wall. Shyly, he offered an ear bud to his friend, who eagerly accepted it. But instead of the harsh rap he had been expecting, a lone piano tune played out. Arthur raised a rather thick brow at his fellow student, who shrugged and smirked at him. The English boy’s cheeks went a bit pink as he felt Alfred’s exposed arm brush against his, no space between them.

 

A man began to sing, and the story unfolded before Arthur as two fathers sang about their love for their newborn children, and their promise to be the best fathers they could be. A slight smile played on the smaller blonde’s lips as he listened to the song.

 

After the whole song played through, a tune that was a tad louder and a lot jazzier struck up, and Alfred fumbled for his phone, blushing.

 

“Sorry, this one’s kinda sappy; I’ll change it-“ Though he stopped as Arthur pushed his hand back down to the ground. “No, I’ll listen. It sounds good.” A chorus of women began to sing, and a different type of love story began to unveil itself: A woman from the American Revolutionary War (he presumed) falling helplessly in love with a rebel at a party. She sang of her infatuation with him, how her life improved with every letter her lover wrote her, how she almost died of stress when he asked for her father’s blessing, her overwhelming joy at their marriage. Arthur couldn’t help but relate as she sang about his beautiful eyes and wits. He looked over at Alfred, just to find him looking back at him, and they both quickly looked away, blushing wildly. 

 

The Brit’s green eyes penetrated the ground. He felt those impossibly deep cobalt eyes on the back of his head, and his face heated up all over again. Finally, he gathered up the courage to look back at his American friend. Alfred smiled shyly.

 

“So, you don’t hate it?” the blue-eyed boy asked. Arthur returned his grin.

 

“On the contrary. I hate to admit it, but it’s actually rather good.” The American beamed.

 

“Oh! Well, maybe I can-oh wait, I actually have it with me!” The smaller blonde sent a puzzled glace at the taller boy, but Alfred didn’t catch it. He was too busy sifting through his backpack. After a few seconds he surfaced, clutching something in his hand.

“Here it is, dude!” The blue-eyed boy held out the exact album they had been listening to on his phone earlier. “You got a CD player at home, right?”

 

“Uh, I’m sure I have something,” Arthur mumbled, taking the disc set in his hand. He ran his thumb over the golden cover thoughtfully. He looked back up at his friend, who was grinning back down at him. Arthur smiled sheepishly.

 

“Er-Thank you.”

 

“’S no problem, man.” Alfred smiled, his cheeks pink. The Brit noted that their faces were a good two inches away, but neither of them bothered to move away. Instead, they seemed to be slowly moving closer, closer-

 

A car horn sounded off loudly, making both boys jump and smack their heads together.

 

“Come on, Alfred, we don’t have all day! You’ll have to cut you and your boyfriend’s date short, kay?” Arthur looked up from the ground to see Matthew yelling from the car’s passenger seat. “Get your ass in here!”

 

Alfred turned red. “Okay, dude, sorry! Christ, lay off!” he turned to Arthur. “So… see you later?”

 

“Oh, um, of course!” Arthur responded, but by the time he had Alfred was already in the car. Getting up, he turned to walk home, clutching the album to his chest. He had been called Alfred’s boyfriend, and Alfred didn’t protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: DUUUUUUUUUDE. Wow, that took forever, but it was worth it. Sorry for being dead lately, I'be had this idea since I first was sucked into the Hamilton vortex and NOW IT IS DONE! My computer has been blocking AO3 lately (don't ask), so I'll probably be on less, but you can check my fictionpad account for updates on m blog and whatnot (same username). Speaking of usernames, wow, I changed mine! I don't know why, I just...did. Sorry for any confusion. Yeah, so hopefully you enjoyed, make sure to let me know if you did and I HIGHLY RECCOMEND HAMILTON CHECK IT OUT IF YOU HAVE TIME ITS VERY LEGIT KAY BYEEEEE~
> 
> Signing Off,
> 
> @VacantCanadian


	9. Rocket Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hehehehehehe you'll seeeeeee
> 
>  
> 
> I dunno why but the paragraphs won't separate-(.)H(.) Sry bout that m8

Rocket Man "Artie!" Alfred beamed at his boyfriend's face in the computer. "Don't call me Artie, you git." Arthur complained, scrunching his face up in annoyance. "Aw, you're so cute when you're angry, babe. You know the only time when you're cuter?" "When?" "When you _smile_." Arthur blushed. "Come on, Arthur, I'm not gonna be able to see you for another two months. You know how the bosses are. Just gimme a little one." The dirty blonde begged his lover. The green eyed man blushed, giving a small grin (although he didn't look at the camera). " _There's_ the sugar." Alfred grinned. "Hey, baby, I miss you like crazy." "And I as well," The Brit replied softly. "How's work been?" "Oh, the usual. I don't get out much, but the views here are very nice." Arthur chuckled knowingly. "You know, it's a good thing your job doesn't require much brainpower, love, otherwise you'd be fired in a millisecond." The American gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. "Artie, how dare you? Do you know much intelligence it takes to just not die up here?" Arthur snorted. "Heh. Whatever you say." His face then softened, the smile fading, and concern filled the Englishman's green eyes. "In all seriousness though, love, please stay safe. I don't what I would do if you were to..." "Oh, hey, Arthur..." Alfred cooed, sensing his lover's distress. "I'll be fine. Nothing's gonna happen. I'm totally safe here! Besides, everyone here is here so that we can look out for each other." The Brit sighed. "I know, I know, it's just..." The Englishman's emerald eyes connected once again with blue ones, and he placed his pale hand on the screen. "I don't know what I would do if you got hurt." Alfred put his hand over Arthur's. "Shhh... It'll be fine. I love you, right?" "Yes..." "And you love me, right?" "Yes..." "So it'll be okay." Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but Alfred shushed him, blowing him a kiss through the screen. Arthur smiled. "Okay." "Oh, wait, I forgot to show you the view!" The American suddenly exclaimed, shifting his to a bigger screen in the room. "Alfred, there's nothing there," The Brit snarked, looking at the dark screen. "Wait, I gotta switch the satellite-Gimme a sec-" The blue-eyed man muttered, fiddling with a control panel in his lap. The small blonde laughed. "Alfred, honestly...You're never passing anything interesting when you call me. That's the only reason you have enough connection to contact me in the first place." The taller of the two sighed in defeat. "Fine. But, damn it, I'm an astronaut, and I'll be damned if I can't show my boyfriend at least one cool space thing while I'm in space." He got up and walked to the door of the room and flicked a couple of switches on a panel, and everything in Arthur's view began to shift as gravity left the room. "Alfred, your laptop!" The Brit yelped, alarmed. "It's fine, I got it!" Alfred yelled in reply, rebounding off of the wall to snatch his lover's image. "Idiot! You could have broken it! Be more careful next time!" Arthur snarled. "Oh, jeez, Artie. Calm down, I know what I'm doing. They don't send idiots into space." "You don't know that." "Sure I do. By the way, you can't call me fat anymore," The American teased, gesturing to the empty air below him as he floated above the ground. "You're in Zero Gs, Alfred. I can still call you fat- Not that I would, though," The green-eyed man added as he saw his boyfriend's face fall. "Kay. You know, I should bring you out here sometime." "I think not. I'd rather not risk death by space for months at a time. Besides, it must be positively claustrophobic in there." "A little," The taller blonde admitted, "But you get used to it." "If you say so." Suddenly, a knock sounded on the door. "Jones, wrap it up. We have to do an E.V. soon to check the wheel of the ship again." A thick Russian accent barked. "Okay, Ivan, don't get your scarf in a knot. I'm coming." Alfred smiled apologetically. "Kay, Artie, I gotta go." He planted a kiss on the screen where Arthur's forehead was. "Love ya, babe." "I Love you too. See you in a month," Arthur smiled almost sweetly. "Only 28 more days, baby! We can do this!" Alfred shouted. "LOVE YOOOUUUU~" He drawled, ending the call. Closing his laptop, the American sighed. He loved space, but sometimes he loved his Englishman even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love space nerd Alfred to no end, guys. So here's this. I tried to his that he was in space, but did the title give it away??:m Anyways, here's another chapter with my two favorite blonde homos ;D. Someone told me on my last chapter that I was writing Iggy OOC and I apologize if I was (I would like to point out that the Spider chapter was a reference to Ron Weasley's arachnophobia, did y'all catch that??)ALSO WHOEVER GUESSES WHERE I GOT THE TEACHER'S NAME FROM THE LAST CHAPTER GETS AN APH ONESHOT FROM ME WITH ANY PAIRING THEY WANT IN ANY SCENARIO THEY WANT. Even if it's my ULTIMATE notp. I'll still do it. Anyways, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! If you liked it, a comment would be much appreciated, kind words mean the world to me and encourage me to gET OFF MY LAZY ASS AND ACTUALLY WRITE SHIT //shot And if you have a suggestion or criticism, make sure to tell me about that too. Love y'all to iNFINITY AND BEYOND,
> 
> @VacantCanadian
> 
> P.S. Would you guys be okay with me writing fem!USUK?? I'd like to try it, but if you guys want me to write only the boys then that's fine -w- Just tell me kthanksbye


	10. Road trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our two dorks go on a trip to see Alfred's Christian parents and bond over Annoying Frenchmen and a cliché song.
> 
> (I just noticed that I posted Rocket Man twice, Sorry about that.)

Arthur bit his lip as he stared out the window, anxious. He and his boyfriend, Alfred, had been on the road for a couple hours, yet his nerves had still not settled down.

 

            _What if they hate me?_

            It had just a few nights ago when Alfred had sat Arthur down at the dining table and explained the situation.

 

            “Arthur, before I tell you anything, you have to promise me you won’t freak out.” The American told his lover.

 

            “Oh, now you’re just begging me to freak out.”

“Arthur!”

“I mean, me sitting down and being serious was bad enough…”

“ARTHUR!”

“Just stating a point!”

 

The taller blonde sighed and pushed his glasses up. “Just promise me.”

“…Alright, fine. I promise. Now tell me.”

 

            “Okay, so my parents called me recently. They live a bit down south from here, in Virginia, and it’s a couple hours’ drive. So I don’t get to see them a whole it.”

 

“Anyways, they called me, and they want me to go down to Virginia to celebrate Thanksgiving with the family, and…” The blue-eyed man paused, looking a tad uncomfortable.”

 

“…They want me to bring you.”

A silence covered the room for a few moments.

 

Then Arthur snorted.

 

            “Is that it?” the Brit exclaimed, almost laughing. “Honestly, Alfred, you needn’t be so worried! I know that meeting your lover’s parents is a big deal, and maybe yours are particularly picky, but I can handle it! You know I’m fine at being polite, and I understand Thanksgiving now-“

 

“Arthur, my father is a priest.” Now it was the smaller blonde’s turn to be surprised.

 

“WHAT?!” The Englishman yelped. “Do they even know? Your parents, I mean? About me?”

 

“Yes, they know, but they’re still very…new to the idea of me being bisexual. They’ve only ever met my girlfriends, because, I’ve never really gotten serious with a man before.” Alfred gazed at Arthur. “They’re going to try to accepting and if I didn’t think they could, I wouldn’t take you. Hell, I wouldn’t even go.”

 

“…”

 

“You think you can do it?”

 

The smaller blonde sighed. “Yes, I suppose I can.”

 

            Seeing the sad look upon his lover’s face, the American moved over to Arthur’s side of the table.

 

“Aw, c’mere, babe,” he whispered, pulling Arthur onto his lap and wrapping his arms around him.

 

“Hey, it’ll be okay,” The taller blonde told his boyfriend, gently planting a kiss on his forehead. “Nothing’ bad’ll happen.”

 

Arthur just sighed into his protector’s chest.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Alfred glanced from the road to his Englishman, whom had his cheek mashed against his forearm, which rested in turn against the window. He looked like a child who had been banned from consuming any sugar: depressed. Arthur’s sad face looked horrifically out of place on such a beautiful sunny day.

            “Baby,” the American called, placing a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Tell me you’re not still worried.”

 

The Brit straightened up frowning. “I can’t help it! I want your parents to like me!”

 

“What makes you think they won’t?”

 

“It’s not like I’m a particularly likeable person. Remember when we first met?”

 

Alfred giggled. “Boy, do I. I can still feel the hot tea running down my back as we speak.”

 

Arthur raised his eyebrows mockingly. “Sometimes I still wonder if I started dating you just to shut you up.”

 

“Ouch.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like-“

 

“Nah, ssh. ‘S okay.” The American smiled. “I like it when you’re mean. Most of the time, you’re a tough guy, Artie, and if I ever forget that, Artie, and if I ever forget that, feel free me to punch me.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry I will,” Arthur stated, his tone so serious Alfred almost shuddered.

 

One look at the blue-eyed man’s face and the smaller blonde suddenly remembered where their conversation had been going. “See? This is what I was saying. If it takes six whole months for you, my lover, to be you _friend_ , how on Earth am I to make a good impression on your parents?” the Englishman asked.

 

“Come on, Arthur. You don’t gotta be their bestie. You just gotta be polite. You’re very good at that. Like you always say, you’re a gentleman.”

 

            “Well, yes, but…remember Francis.”

 

            Alfred scoffed. “Yes, and I remember him being the epitome of Frenchness. You’re excused.” The American grinned. “You know he deserved it.”

 

            “. . .”

 

“Just spit it out, Artie-“

“That bastard deserved that kick to crotch more than anything in this world! Bloody Frenchman couldn’t stop checking out secretaries and coworkers for more than five seconds!” The Englishman ranted.

 

Alfred roared with laughter. “ _There’s_ the sugar!”

 

Arthur growled and shoved his boyfriend’s shoulder rather aggressively. “Come off it, you twat.”

 

The taller blonde simply shrugged. “Hey, I got my result, that’s all that matters!”

 

“How is me being pissed off over Francis your ‘result’?”

 

“If I told you, it’d have been for nothing.”

 

“Oh... were you trying to distract me from the task at hand again?”

 

“Define ‘the task at hand’.”

 

“Your parents liking me.”

 

“…Define-“

 

“ALFRED!”

“Sorry, Sorry, it’s just-I don’t wanna see you get all upset for no reason.”

 

“No reason?” The green-eyed Brit asked, appalled, “Al, there are _your parents_ -“

 

“I mean they’re going to like you!”

 

“How can you be so sure?”

 

“Because they’re my parents, and I love you more than anything in the whole universe.” The American’s face softened, and he reached out to cup his boyfriend’s face **(A/N: wHILE DRIVING APH AMERICA=GOD CONFIRME)** “I love your hair, your skin, your _goddamn gorgeous_ eyes. Your smile, your smirk, how you pretend to be disgusted with me, but then you protect me from ghosts at nijust because my parents say soght, how your face lights up when you have your morning cup of tea, how you insist on listening to BBC every morning in the car, your ungodly obsession with pirates and fairies and Doctor Who and Sherlock- literally just everything.” Arthur was looking down, blushing and smiling bitterly. _How does he memorize all these little things?_

“And if you think I’m gonna drop the best thing that ever happened to me just because my parents say so, then you can just forget it, because as the people of the U.S. of A. like to say-“ Alfred cleared his throat. “ _Bitch, I ain’t going nowhere.”_

 

Arthur laughed in spite of himself. “That is _literally_ the worst grammar I have ever heard in a sentence in my entire life.”

 

“Hehe, you know you love it.”

 

“I most certainly don’t.”

 

“. . .”

 

“. . .If you’re waiting for me to say something completely sappy and cliché, you can forget it.”

 

The America shrugged. “Fine by me. I’m not the needy one here.”

**(A/N:// sHOT THROUGH THE HEART)**

_“Alfred Fucking Jones-“_

“I told you, the F stands for freedom, dude!”

 

The smaller blonde snarled.

 

            “…Hey, I have an idea, let’s check the radio!”

 

“Hmph.”

            After a bit of unsuccessful twiddling with the dial, a song came on that was so ironic to the two lovers’ that Arthur could hardly believe it.

 

“Oh my god.”

 

Highway to Hell was playing on the radio.

 

“OH HELLS YES!” The taller blonde screamed, cranking up the volume.

 

“Alfred, bloody hell, NO!” The green-eyed man yelled putting his hands over his ears.

 

“COME ON, ARTHUR, SING WITH ME!”

 

“HONESTLY, I’D RATHER BE BRUTALLY AND SLOWLY DECAPITATED!”

 

“I’M ON THE HIIIIIIIIGH-WAY TO HEEELLL!” Alfred screeched, trying to mimic the singer’s rough voice.

 

“Oh-my-god-Alfred,” Arthur choked out through laughter. This was simultaneously the scariest and funniest thing he’d ever seen. He knew the American was just trying to cheer him up, but he’s be damned if he didn’t get this on tape.

 

God, Would he have a story for Mr. and Mrs. Jones when they arrived.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Yep. In one oneshot, music brought them together. Now it’s tearing them apart. Hehehehe. I don’t love the way this fic was delivered //coughWHATISDIALOUGEEVENcough , but I spent a good bit of time on it, so I figured I might as well post it. It’s so cringy though… Oh well. I guess that’s just Arthur and Alfred for you. Now, if anyone has any ideas or requests for a oneshot, I’ m bad with ideas, so if you’d like to donate one for me to write over the summer, I’d love to! Anyway, if you enjoyed, please leave a kudos or a kind comment (my fuel), and if you have a criticism or suggestion, feel free to comment about that as well. Thank you for taking time out of your day to read my garbage.


	11. Snowfall (Some credit to OTPPrompts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My two babies and the snow.
> 
> Based of a promt from the tumblr @OTPPrompts.

  
“Rise and shine, Al,” A British voice cooed softly. The American blinked at the harsh light invading his eyes a few times, grumbled, and pulled the covers over his head.  
  
“Alfred,” Arthur growled above him.  
“No.”  
“ALFRED.”  
“Sto-op. I just wanna sle-ep!”  
“Alfred, you’ve had a week to adjust to the time zone here-”  
“I don’t ca-are. I just..I’m just gonna live in Florida time, like...forever.”  
“Completely unacceptable. You agreed to come and live with me in London, so you can’t just never go outside again.”  
“YES I C-”  
“You’re usually so bright and happy; I simply can’t take you like this.”  
“What does that have to do with-”  
“I might just have to throw you out.”

Alfred quickly flung the covers off of his groggy form and bolted upright. “Fine, you win! Ugh!”

“There we are.” The green-eyed Brit smirked, relishing his small victory as he looked at his boyfriend, who was still clothed in his Marvel pajamas.

“What do even need me to be up for? It’s not like we have anything to do. It’s the middle of January, and you’re off work for the next week.” The taller blonde mumbled, slapping his hand around on the nightstand in a blind search for his glasses.

“Well, I didn’t need you up for anything in particular before, but since you felt the need to complain, I now have something in mind." Arthur quickly launched a set of clothes at his tired lover, which landed straight on his face. "Get dressed, we're going out." An exasperated groan escaped the barrier of clothing obscuring Alfred's visage.

~£~$~£~$~£~$~£~$~£~$~£~$~£~$~£~$

Alfred's jaw dropped when he saw their final destination after ten minutes of walking. He whirled around to Arthur, his eyes aglow.

"They have Starbucks in England?" He gushed, looking at the small coffee shop in front of him as if head just found the gate to heaven.

"Yes, you dumbarse, they have Starbucks everywhere. Now let's go inside." The smaller blonde grabbed hold of his boyfriend's arm, and together they walked inside.

"I thought you said you hated coffee, Arthur," The American asked while the waited in line.

"I do, that's why I brought myself tea," The Brit explained, light patting his coat pocket.

The taller blonde shrugged. "Kay, then." Stepping up to the register, he quickly began to fill in his order, reciting Arthur's request as well.

It was when they stepped out of line that they noticed that all the seats in the shop were taken.

"Oh no, where are we gonna sit?" Alfred wailed.

"It's alright, love, they have seats outside," Arthur said, extracting a long groan from his boyfriend.

"Ugh, but it's so cold outside!" He cried.

"Too bad. We can't exactly kick anyone here out of their seats, so you'll just have to live with it. Now come on, they just called our order."

Alfred's face lit up for a split second. "Wait, did they actually call Steven Rodgers?"

"No, you twit, because I gave them my name. I'm not letting you scream out that you're Captain America in a public place."

"Artie!"

The two grabbed their drinks, and the Englishman led his whining lover outside to a glass-top table with two wrought-iron chairs, and sat himself down. The two were quiet a moment, Alfred sipping his coffee and Arthur dipping his teabag in and out of his cup of hot water. After a minute or so, the American broke the silence.

"The snow's a lot prettier out here," he said, startling Arthur out of his train of thought. "Wait-what?"

"I mean, it's just- everywhere else in the city, the snow's all brown and gray and slushy-people are always messing it up. But out here, where no one's walking around, it looks like a picture book or something."

"I suppose you're right," Arthur replied. "I never really thought about it."

"Well, I guess if you've been living your whole life with snow, you wouldn't really care." Alfred shrugged.

"What, have you never been around snow before?" Arthur joked.

"No," Alfred answered earnestly, blue eyes wide. "The day you picked me up from the airport was the first time."

Arthur blinked a few times in surprise. From as far back as he could remember, he had always spent the winters of his childhood building snowmen and having snowball fights with his brothers. Although rain was much more common in his hometown, he couldn't imagine a life without it.

Arthur was about to ask Alfred what in the world he did a child in winter when he saw the American cautiously bending down to scoop up and handful of snow. The Englishman laughed in spite of himself. "Alfred, what are you doing?"

"I've never seen it up close before," Alfred replied, holding the lump of snow up close to his face. At one point he got to close and the snow brushed his nose, causing him to reel back from shock. He quickly dumped the snow from his hand and tried to brush the last remaining snowflakes from his glove. This proved to be ineffective, and he seemed rather frustrated by it. Chuckling, Arthur stood up and walked over to his lover.

"No use trying to wipe them off, they'll just stick. You have to wait for them to melt off." To prove his point, he slowly guided the American's hand over his steaming coffee, and the small specks of snow began to melt off and drip into the dark beverage.

The Brit released the taller blonde's hand, a tad embarrassed, and was about to say something when he noticed small white flecks drifting from the sky. He laughed softly at the ironic timing and pointed. "Look, Alfred it's snowing!"

With a gaze of childlike wonder, Alfred sapphire eyes shone brightly and he rushed out into the snow, his footprints ruining the serenity of the scenery. He caught a few snowflakes in his leather gloves, watching in glee as the miniature designs on the flakes slowly melted to water droplets. Excitedly, he opened his mouth, trying to catch a few on his tongue.   
Arthur was giggling like mad as he watched his boyfriend make a fool of himself. He looks so cute, The Brit couldn't help thinking to himself as he watched the taller blonde tumble through the snow. After a few more moments of this pure adorableness, Arthur walked over to his lover and tapped him on the shoulder, who turned around to face him, confused.

"I'm awfully sorry to interrupt you, Alfred, but I wanted to give you something." The Englishman cooed. Before Alfred could ask what it was, the Brit pressed the American's lips to his own, and for a few moments they stood there, kissing and letting the snow fall down on them. Finally, Arthur pulled away.

"What was that for?" Alfred asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

"Oh, no reason." The smaller blonde chirped. "Now come, your coffee's getting cold."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hey hey hey, two updates in one week! Not too shabby, if I do say so myself! (I do.) This was a prompt I found on tumblr that I thought was so cute, and I had to write it. ...England has Starbucks, right? I assumed. Correct me if I'm wrong. As a person who grew up where it never snows, I know what it's like to see snow for the first time, and it was fun to write. Anyways, give a kudos or nice comment if your enjoyed! Thanks a bunch!
> 
> Signing Off,
> 
> @VacantCanadian


	12. Lucky Shirt (eVEN MORE TUMBLR PROMPTS //SHOTDED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred can't find his lucky shirt. 
> 
> (Again, I got this prompt off a tumblr thread, but I don't know exactly who wrote it. Credit to you anyways, mystery person.)

“Where is it?” Alfred mumbled to himself as he hurriedly rummaged through his shirt drawer, then the remainder of the set. “I swore I put I put it back in here... Where could it have gone?”

“What on Earth are you looking for?” The American heard his British boyfriend call from downstairs.

“MY SHIRT!” The dirty blonde yelled back, now a bit panicked as he had explored half the bedroom with no sign of the clothing article.

“Just look everywhere you might have left it, love, I’m sure it’ll turn up somewhere.” Arthur cooed serenely.

“I know, I know, it’s just...special to me, Artie.” Alfred sighed, remembering the day he’d bought it.

It was three years ago, before he had met his lover, at his first Superhero convention. He remembered seeing the shirt on the rack and being enamored with it right away. It had felt like destiny that he’d saved up just enough money to purchase it. From that day on, it was his lucky shirt. He wore it under his nice clothes at job interviews. He wore it five days straight on his final exams. He wore it when he met Arthur. Losing it would break him.

“If it’s been ten minutes and you still can’t find it, I’ll help you search, Al,” The smaller blonde offered, but the American shook his head and responded, “No, babe, I got it. You watch your show.”

 

* * *

 

Seven minutes had gone by, and Alfred was coming downstairs, still looking for his beloved shirt.

“Still no luck?” Arthur called absentmindedly from the couch.

“Ironically, no,” Alfred replied, now searching the kitchen.

“Alfred, love, it’s not going to be in the silverware drawer.” The Brit sighed, watching his boyfriend’s ridiculous exploration of the cupboards. “Come look in the living room.”

“Okay, fine,” The American hastily agreed, “But-” The taller blonde stopped dead in his tracks, mouth slightly open as he stared at Arthur. “What?”

Alfred had found the shirt.

The long sleeves draped daintily around the Englishman’s arms, and the black background of the shirt made his pale skin glow beautifully. The design of mutated Captain America soaked in the bubbling, toxic acid, made the green in his eyes vibrant and his gaze almost caustic, but Alfred couldn’t find the strength to look away.

Arthur had been sitting on the couch, _this whole time_ , wearing that shirt, and nothing but that shirt.

“Is something wrong, love? You seem rather red-faced.” The smaller blonde remarked, using those piercing green eyes to cast a concerned look.

“Um, I’m j-just gonna go l-lie down,” The American stuttered, backing away while blushing furiously. When he turned to flee up the stairs, only one thought filled his head:

_Damn, he looked good in that shirt._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I found this online, and it just called to me like, 'VC, write it...write this prompt...you have to...' and so I did and here we are. Sorry that it's, like, the epitome of shortness, I couldn't really think of way to make it longer that would include more yaoi-goodness (meaning I didn't want to write about Alfred searching through the house for seven minutes). I might not post for a while, I just had time to write this morning, and that's really the only reason I did. I'll try to write more. The next idea I have is a response to the beautiful poem 'USUK National Anthem' (look it up on YouTubes it's rad) from America's POV, but I might not be deep enough to do it. If I'm not, I'll just write more stupid fluff. Either way, muchachos. A kudos and/or kind comment is not only appreciated, it is awarded with Canada hugs...actually, screw it. Whoever-the-hell-you-want hugs. Just not Finland. He's mine. c:.
> 
> Signing Off (srsly don't touch my viking bby I'll find you) ,
> 
> @VacantCanadian


	13. A Dramatic Poem :m

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> points to title  
>  America's POV

You  
How to describe you.  
I could see your passion for me right away  
It burned in those emerald eyes  
Those eyes were meant to kindle flames  
Not foster waterfalls  
And so watching you cry there  
Was out of the question

What were you to me back then?  
I remember faintly caring embraces  
And kind smiles  
But they lacked the same passion  
That I felt for you.  
But I was simply a child then  
What could I do but wait to grow up?  
I wanted to prove to you  
That I was not your brother  
The desperate measures I took seemed necessary.

How can eyes built to showcase the fire of rage  
Hold endless tears so easily?  
The rain poured down and soaked us both  
I reveled at your sight  
The world's most powerful man  
Sobbing at my feet  
I wanted to run  
To pretend I hadn't caused it  
Is it really a victory  
If all you want to do   
Is kneel down with your opponent  
Grasp him by the shoulders  
And wail with him?

Is everything as it should be now?  
Your eyes once again smolder  
They burn through me at every glance  
But you'd never know that  
They say I'm blunt and straightforward  
But I could never be that way  
If it meant swallowing my pride  
And telling you the truth

That after all these years  
All this time  
From the moment I first saw you  
My feelings have remained the same

I hate it.

But I can't help it.

I love you, England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: So...that happened. A little small post of consisting of llama-quality drama to tide you over for a while, because guys...I have a confession.
> 
> I have fallen into the endless pit that is Assassination Classroom.
> 
> And I have fallen HARD.
> 
> In case you're unaware, it's a rEALLY QUALITY ANIME //shotded that I'm super in love with because the protagonist is literally too beautiful for this world. I HIGHLY recommend it if you're looking for a new series, as it just ended. Oh, and no spoilers in the comments please (if you've seen it), because I'm not through with the show yet. I might try my hand at writing some Karma/Nagisa fan fiction later (and I am also moving this week .v.) , but I'll still try to update my anglophone babies as much as possible. BELIEVE IN ME AAAA- Anyways, if you enjoyed, please leave a comment or kudos! I love writing for you guys! Anyways, have a nice summer! 
> 
> Signing Off,
> 
> @VacantCanadian


	14. aNOTHER POEM SLAY M E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time it's England's POV in a human AU (I think it's very vague)

There he waits. There he is.  
To be in his presence is to experience the wonder of life in its truest form   
To understand everything but him  
What I find strength in  
My eloquence and articulation   
It crumbles under the tremendous weight of his childish cerulean gaze.   
My words sputter and crash like a tidal wave at seeing him  
The right words are always just out of reach  
But the flow of his words is simple and crisp like a small brook  
I envy his ways  
The words may not always be there right away   
But he never has trouble speaking them when they come to him  
How can one be so allured by someone so simplistic?  
I cannot fathom my own emotions and thoughts  
which brings about a feeling of exhilarating terror  
Like the pool of dread in someone's stomach  
When they realize they are about to make a great drop  
I have always appreciated complexity and intricacy  
Yet he elicits from me a steady steam of admiration and great passion  
Oh, I have never felt the likes of such passion!  
I quake in his presence, whether it be inwardly or outwardly  
The throes of joy that I experience at a simple smile or chuckle  
Could not compare to my experiences at any other point in my life  
He seems to embody all the vibrance and positivity my life has lacked  
And he chose me   
He chose me from so many others, so many better people   
People with attractive qualities and personalities   
Yet he found pleasure in the company of a pessimistic man  
Who had long since given up the ideals of a life with meaning  
At our first meetings, I knew him to be only a false idol and treated him with malice  
I felt used for entertainment, the plaything of a child.   
And I confronted him after several days, shouting accusations of alternate motives out in pain  
He responded by wrapping his arms around me and telling me how much I meant to him  
But not in the way I so desperately want.  
He told me of his value of our friendship  
His apologies that he ever made his dear friend feel such a way  
I thought I might feel relieve wash over me in cascades at that moment  
But I felt my heart twist violently as I realized that wasn't the answer I wanted.  
I wanted, I still want for him to take me in his arms with loving passion to match my own  
To take possession of me, to kiss me gently, to guide me out of this living hell of anxiety   
I loathe knowing that I'm like this  
I feel helpless, trapped in a state of weakness  
I never wanted to fall in love.  
Especially not with another man.  
Especially not with someone who views me so platonically.  
Especially not with someone who will never love me back.  
It rips me to shreds  
I want to scream, but I fall silent.   
Silent.   
I am silent.  
From the moment I was born.  
Silent because of three loud older brothers.  
Silent because of two strict parents.  
Silent because of a world who mocked every word spoken.  
Silent because there was too much work to ever have time to speak.  
And now he's here, and I finally have the right people, place, time.  
I can speak.   
But old habits die hard.   
My mouth is clamped shut with the confines of the past.  
I am a silent man, too broken to learn.  
I will remain a silent man.  
How morbidly ironic.  
A silent man in love with a man who never shuts his damn mouth.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: dAMMIT I WROTE ANOTHER POEM D: I actually have a One Night Stand prompt going, but my motivation on it crashed and burned. Poems are my weakness, boys and girls. Literally, I need zero plot points, I just have to sound descriptive and talk about how someone feels, and I can just let my mind wander wherever the hell it wants. No dialogue or general logic needed. WOO! Sorry guys XD I'm so lazy. I WILL write something that's legit a story, I swear. One day. Also, we're almost to 100 kudos! Woop woop! //pops confetti I love you all SOO much. I can't believe it's been almost a year since I fell head over heels for these two gay nerds (This fic's official first birthday is Nov. 30th (I think), and don't think I''m not gonna write something to do with anniversaries/birthdays. Be ready.) Thank you all for your tremendous support! The AO3 community is amazing. Anyways, kudos, comment, you know the drill. Thanks for reading! ⚫️〰⚫️
> 
> Signing Off,


	15. A ONE NI-IGHT STAAAAAND (fob is life slay me)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isn't that pun just pure quailty

A red haze obscuring Alfred's vision caused him to open his eyes, then quickly squeeze them closed again as he found himself staring directly into the sunlight streaming through his window. Hand shielding his face from the blinding light, he blinked rapidly as he adjusted to the morning gleam. He looked down at his bare chest and sighed. It was Saturday, and Alfred assumed he provably had something to do, given his social tendencies, so he lazily threw the covers off of himself, beginning to get ready for the day.

That's when he noticed he was completely naked.

The American's eyes widened in shock, and a feeling of dread pooled in his stomach. He quickly grabbed his phone and checked his reflection. Love marks covered the side of his neck. He dropped the phone and had to resist screaming. He realized he hadn't checked the other side of the bed, and slowly he turned around, like someone in a horror movie mere moments before their death.

A lump in the comforter in the shape of a human rose and fell slowly. The blue-eyed blonde swallowed. Whoever he had...lain with last night must still be asleep. Desperately trying to keep his breath steady, Alfred slowly crawled closer to the sleeping figure, who was turned away from him. The person had a messy head of blonde hair. Carefully, the American exited the bed snuck around to the other side to see if he could recognize this mysterious person. As he got closer, he saw a pale face with rosy cheeks, a man's face (though Alfred had accepted that he was gay long ago, so this didn't particularly bother him). The next thing he noticed  
was that the man had absurdly large eyebrows-

Eyebrows.

Alfred's jaw dropped as the pieces clicked together in his head. He turned his head to where he had seen clothes piled in the corner, and sure enough- a green sweater vest lay among other carelessly discarded garments. The American turned back to the sleeping man, awestruck.

He had slept with his coworker, Arthur Kirkland.

X

Eventually, Arthur came to, rubbing his eyes as he looked around. When he noticed the bed he lay in was not his own, he started to panic, but Alfred quickly shushed him, getting up from the floor, where he had been messing around aimlessly with his phone while contemplating what to do.

"Alfred-wha?" The Brit mumbled, recognizing his companion from work. "I...Is this your home? What am I doing here?" He attempted to sit up, but quickly laid down again, clasping both hand to his head and grimacing. "Bloody hell, my head..." He moaned. "What happened last night?"

"I...don't remember," Alfred admitted, flustered. "I woke up a while ago, and I don't know what exactly happened, but I think we, um..." He stopped as Arthur began to work it out. Slowly, green eyes turned to him, wide as saucers. "I'll, um...Go get you something to drink." The taller blonde offered suddenly, scrambling out of the room. That penetrating emerald gaze was unnerving him.

The blue-eyed man pawed though his cupboards, looking for what he knew to be the smaller blond's favorite source of caffeine: tea. He finally found a some Lipton packets stashed in the way back of one of his cabinets; It wasn't the best, but hopefully it would do. As he prepared the hot beverage, memories began to make their way back to him. He faintly remembered bits and pieces of last night that made him flush red: trailing his hands and tongue possessively down an exposed, pale body, swollen pink lips crashing into his own again and again while green eyes shone with lust, pleasure racking his body as soft moans escaped both mouths-Alfred shook his head wildly, disoriented. He put both hands down firmly on the counter, his breathing slow and deliberate. He heard the microwave beep. Carefully, he reclaimed the warm mug and nervously began to ascend the stairs back to his bedroom.

The Brit was waiting for him on the bed upstairs, sitting patiently with his calves tucked under him. The American silently handed him the cup of tea, and the smaller blonde graciously accepted it with a small nod. While Alfred had been gone, Arthur had gotten up and retrieved the blue-eyed man's gray bathrobe from the master bath to cover his exposed flesh. It was too bug for his slim shoulders, however, and instead rested on his upper forearms, showing off his collarbone and bruised neck. The American flushed pink at how elegant he managed to look despite the circumstances, like a work of art. For a moment, no one moved.

"Thank you," The green-eyed man said hoarsely, looking rather embarrassed as he took a sip from the mug. The American plopped down on the bed next to his guest, first looking down at his feet, then to Arthur.

"So, do you remember...anything? From last night?" He asked stiffly. The Brit rubbed his temple with his hand.

"Bits and pieces. Sort of. I remember us going to the bar after work and getting a few drinks...from then on it's all a bit of a blur. What about you?"

"Same here, mostly."

"Did we go to the bar with anyone else? Maybe they remember how this happened."

"...Maybe Kiku?"

"No, no, Kiku left before us..."

"Well, shit."

A silence fell again. Then Arthur's cheeks turned pink and mumbled something Alfred could barely make out.

" I sort of figured my first time would be a man, but never would I have guessed I wouldn't remember a thing..."

The taller blonde inhaled sharply, putting both hands to his mouth. "Oh no...that was your first time?"

The Englishman flushed red, but instead of getting mad, he cast a sort of amused look at his host. "Do I look like the kind of person who gets around to you?"

"Well-I mean-I thought you'd have done it at least once..." Alfred protested. "It's not like you're bad-looking or anything..."

Alfred looked up from his hands and noticed the red tint on the Brit's face. He didn't know why he chose to continue, but something in his head urged him to, and so he opened his mouth once again.

"I mean, you're just-like-pretty attractive- so I figured that'd you- or like, someone might've, y'know, already...had had their way with...you know." he finished awkwardly. _Smooth. Incredibly smooth._

Arthur chuckled nervously. "Heh. I suppose I'm lucky that my first time was with someone...experienced. Even if I don't remember it all that much, I assume it was...enjoyable."

"Usually, yeah."

A pregnant moment.

"Do you...usually do this?" The smaller blonde asked suddenly.

"No! no." Alfred assured the other man. "Man, I haven't done this kind of thing since high school, I swear."

"Oh. Well, that's..." Arthur seemed to be have as much of a loss for words as the other blonde. Then again, there wasn't much to say in this kind of situation. The Englishman took another cautious sip of his tea.

"...I can leave, if you'd like."

"Oh, no! I-I mean, um, you don't have to. Unless you you want to, of course, because then you should-just, u-um....I mean, just, feel free to do w-whatever. You're welcome to stay. I'll call a cab if you do wanna leave, though." Why was this so nerve-racking to the American? One night stands were always a little awkward, but the young man had never once felt this flustered. Alfred was jerked out of his thoughts when he heard his co-worker giggle softly.

"...What?"

"Oh, nothing, really. It's just..." Arthur chuckled again, grinning. "You're usually so socially practiced, so seeing this side of you is rather amusing."

Alfred flushed red at the statement, sputtering wildly. "W-Well, i-it's not you're doing much better! I-I, I'm just-It's like-" No matter how hard he tried, the words that usually flowed so easily from his mouth refused to be spoken. The Brit beside him laughed  
heartily despite his efforts to stop himself. Frustrated, Alfred gave up and buried his face into a pillow, laying flat on his stomach.

"Oh, Alfred, I'm sorry..." Arthur cooed, although he was still giggling. A muffled 'No you're not' came from the pillows.

"No, really, I am. I just..." Arthur ruffled a hand through the taller man's dirty blonde hair. "This side of you...you really seem quite concerned about my well being. It's rather adorable, honestly."

"..."

Alfred slowly rolled his face out of the pillow to face Arthur. Instead of seeing a face flushed pink in realization of his own words, the Brit's face was seemingly calm, and he smiled down serenely at the other man. Slowly, the smaller man stooped down and planted a gently kiss on the American's forehead. The taller man's blue eyed widened at the sight of the other blonde as he rose back up a few inches: The morning sun shone down on him softly, making his pale skin glow beautifully, and his green eyes sparkled in the same way a meadow shines with morning dew. Without thinking, Alfred suddenly pulled his own head up and returned the kiss: this time on the lips. Arthur's eyes widened in shock as he felt soft lips on his own for a quick moment, before being pulled away. The blue-eyed man beamed at his now-blushing beauty.

"You're not so bad yourself."

 

  
Author's Note: HAH! I FINISHED IT! IT WAS REALLY LAME, BUT I FINISHED IT! I hope you guys are proud of me and my unwillingness to think of a better idea. So, one night stand...should I write a prequel *insert lenny face here*? Srsly though would you guys let me write smut I kind of wanna try it •u• aNYWHO yay actual chapter with like a plot and stuff! //pats self on the back Don't know when I'll have time to post this, hopefully soon. I noticed a didn't get much of a reaction to my last fic chapter (Shame, I was kinda proud of it), but I totally get it that y'all prefer actual plotted out stories to poems (especially two in a row). I'll make sure to keep it in mind. Anyways, don't have much else to say besides please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed! (Especially comments, as I am a thirsty bitch) Have a fabulous day, thanks for reading my trash!

Signing Off,

@VacantCanadian

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: HAH! I FINISHED IT! IT WAS REALLY LAME, BUT I FINISHED IT! I hope you guys are proud of me and my unwillingness to think of a better idea. So, one night stand...should I write a prequel *insert lenny face here*? Srsly though would you guys let me write smut I kind of wanna try it •u• aNYWHO yay actual chapter with like a plot and stuff! //pats self on the back Don't know when I'll have time to post this, hopefully soon. I noticed a didn't get much of a reaction to my last fic chapter (Shame, I was kinda proud of it), but I totally get it that y'all prefer actual plotted out stories to poems (especially two in a row). I'll make sure to keep it in mind. Anyways, don't have much else to say besides please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed! (Especially comments, as I am a thirsty bitch) Have a fabulous day, thanks for reading my trash!
> 
> Signing Off,
> 
> @VacantCanadian


	16. One Night Stand: The PREQUEL (happy 100 kudos!!! I now indulge you with SIN >:) ))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT SMUT SMUUT LEMON PORN NSFW WHATEVER YOU CALL IT
> 
> this is probably more for me than anyone else
> 
> avert your eyes lil ones
> 
> ver vanilla also

It had only been a matter of minutes since the two blondes had arrived at Alfred’s house, and yet somehow they found themselves engaged in a passionate kiss against the wall of the American’s bedroom. The taller blonde took delight in the mewls escaping his English partner’s smaller form as he roughly pinned him against the wall and let his tongue explore his coworker’s mouth. Both men panted heavily as they repeatedly parted and dove into each other once again. Alfred brought the Brit off of the wall and pulled his green sweater vest over his head excitedly and flung it to the corner of the room lazily, pushing the smaller blonde to the bed and climbed on top of him.

Lustful green eyes closed in content as the two males’ mouths slid together once again. Arthur slipped his hand under the American’s shirt, feeling the warm, tan skin underneath as his white dress shirt was unbuttoned slowly by the blue-eyed man, who had abandoned Arthur’s mouth in favor of sucking harshly on his neck, nipping and licking eagerly. The young Englishman’s face flushed with arousal, and his breath came in short pants and moans. Blue eyes looked up and glinted slyly at the older man before Alfred latched onto one of his coworker’s nipples. “Ah-Alfred!” The Brit inhaled sharply. He knee jerked up quickly in reaction to the rush of pleasure, which brushed against the taller man’s groin. 

The American tried to muffle his gasp against the other male’s pale skin, but it was in vain. Arthur smirked cockily at the reaction and began to purposefully rub his knee on the sensitive area. Alfred’s face turned an erotic shade of red as he began to harden, groaning and gasping at the green-eyed man’s touch. All the while, he managed to continue tracing his tongue along his coworker’s torso, making Arthur painfully erect as well. 

Alfred straightened up into a sitting position and whipped off his shirt, casting it into the corner of the bedroom with the rest of the clothing covering the two men’s chests. Now all that remained on the two blonde’s bodies were their pants. Quick hands unfastened Arthur’s belt buckle and pants, and the smaller man quickly raised his rear up so that his coworker could remove his khakis and, quickly after, his boxers, exposing the Brit’s fully erect cock. 

Under different circumstances, the smaller Brit might have had the modesty to turn his head, but he was so drunk and so horny that he couldn’t force his eyes away from the sight of Alfred salivating at the sight of him. The American firmly gripped the shaft and pumped it a few times, causing the Englishman to gasp as precum leaked from the tip of his member. 

The taller man tentatively lowered his head and dragged his tongue from the base of his manhood until he reached the tip, which he gave a small lick, causing Arthur to squeak and give a small buck of his hips. He had never had this kind of experience before, and it was  _ amazing.  _ Not waiting another second, the blue-eyed American opened his mouth and took as much of the length as he could into his mouth. Arthur began to pant wildly as Alfred started to bob up and down on his coworker’s cock, shoveling both his hands through the other man’s dirty blonde locks. 

“Ahh, oh god, Al, I’m gonna--” was the American’s cue to pull off. The rush of cool air was extremely disappointing compared to the warm, wet sensation that the Brit had been feeling, and he whined pitifully at the lull in pleasure. 

“Shh~” Alfred cooed softly to his coworker. Arthur looked up to see that he had put three fingers in his mouth and had begun coating them in saliva. 

“Wha-? You abandoned my dick for your fing-Aah!” The Brit stopped abruptly when he felt three digits being brushed lightly against his entrance.

“Sorry, Artie, but I don’ have any lube. This might hurt a little, but I promise it’ll start feeling good soon.” The American slurred, still intoxicated. With that, Alfred slowly pushed a finger into the smaller man’s virgin ass. It was extremely uncomfortable, and Arthur hissed in pain. Alfred tenderly pressed their lips together in an attempt to quiet him. 

“Ya gotta relax, Artie,” He whispered as he began to rhythmically thrust the digit in and out of the smaller blonde. “Won’t feel good unless you do.” The green-eyed man struggled to keep his breathing steady as he familiarized the weird sensation. The younger man gave him a questioning look, and the elder nodded. The blue-eyed man added another finger. The pain remained as Alfred scissored and stretched and eventually added a third finger. Finally, the American discontinued his finger fucking and unfastened his own pants. Arthur watched excitedly as he pulled down his briefs, revealing a large and painfully erect length; His own manhood dripped eagerly at the sight. 

The taller blonde lined himself up at the Englishman’s entrance and swiftly pushed himself in. Alfred’s coworker sucked in a breath as tears gathered at the corner of his eyes. He grasped at the sheets of the bed in shock as he adjusted to the giant length inside of him. After a few moments, he signaled to his partner that it was okay to move. 

Alfred began to thrust into the smaller blonde with surprising force. Despite the pain, the filling sensation was strangely pleasurable as well, and the Brit felt his toes curling in erotic sensation as he began to enjoy the feeling of the other man dominating. 

“God, Arthur, you’re so fucking tight,” The American breathed out as he slammed into Arthur’s prostate. 

“Ha-AAH!” Arthur cried out, a wave of ecstasy washing over him at the sudden contact on his sweet spot. 

Alfred smirked. “Like that?” he mused, ramming into the area again. The Englishman whimpered, overcome with arousal and cock drenched in his precum. After a few moments, the Brit realized that his coworker has discontinued his rhythmic pace.

“D-Don’t stop!” he almost screamed. “Please!” To his surprise, the American leaned into his ear and whispered huskily.

“Want me to keep going~? Show me how much you want it, you slut.” Arthur inhaled lustfully at the sound of his voice. Alfred was usually naïve and innocent, he never knew this side of him existed. Regardless, the older man was far too drunk and aroused to do anything but oblige to the other blonde’s demands. 

“God Alfred, just-” The Brit’s usual powers of articulation weren’t particularly fast, as his mind was clouded by lust, and he tried to think of the best words to humor the younger boy. “-just fuck me into oblivion with that huge cock of yours!” Arthur knew he had said the right thing when he saw a sly grin creep across Alfred’s face. 

“Good answer.” 

The American began to rapidly slam directly into the green-eyed man’s prostate, sending him reeling as pleasure racked them both. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as he wildly bucked back to meet his partner’s thrusts. 

“Oh-GOD, Alfred--Nnngh, Al, Alfre-Aah! Alfred, I’m-” Arthur let out a loud mewl as he bucked up and released, coating both men’s stomachs with seed. A few moments after, Alfred came as well, riding out his orgasm as he cried out Arthur’s name.

He pulled out and collapsed next to his coworker, pulling him close to his chest and kissing him softly. For a moment, they both lay there, breathing heavily. 

“...That was nice.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: HAPPY 100 KUDOS!!! WOOOOO! Hope this was a good present for y’all! Also, mini celebration-got me a wattpad. Follow me if you’re on there, my username’s the same. How are my smutty skillz, man? More or less of this stuff? I’m aware that this was pretty vanilla, but I didn’t wanna do anything cRAZY for my first erotica fic. So hopefully this was a good read. Make sure to leave a kudos/vote or a nice comment if you enjoyed! Boi, frunds! 
> 
> Signing Off. 
> 
> @VacantCanadian
> 
> ps. no one on my wattpad looks at this and I am alone and I wrote this at 2 AM sorry


	17. Memes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're just gonna see what happens
> 
> Inspired by every meme fic ever
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy my ticket to hell

You are now chatting with a stranger!

FreedomFuckboi: Harmabe

DeathByDoctor: oh my god

FreedomFuckboi: Dicks out

DeathByDoctor: How original;;

FreedomFuckboi: r my memes not good enough for u

DeathByDoctor: fuck no

DeathByDoctor: only the spiciest of memes in this chat

FreedomFuckboi: im sorry take me back babe;;

DeathByDoctor: thats p gay,,

DeathByDoctor: I mean so am i but

FreedomFuckboi: so your a dude then??

DeathByDoctor: *you're and yes

FreedomFuckboi: cool

FreedomFuckboi: means i can make more dick jokes

DeathByDoctor: omf

FreedomFuckboi: anyways ima introduce myself

DeathByDoctor: go ahead

FreedomFuckboi: Hi,, Im Alfred and Im a slut for my country

DeathByDoctor: I could tell that from your username

FreedomFuckboi: not the name part tho

DeathByDoctor: Whatever,,

DeathByDoctor: I'm Arthur and I'd let Matt Smith do me up the arse

FreedomFuckboi: FUCKING HYPOCRITE

DeathByDoctor: You didn't know which one

FreedomFuckboi: I COULD HAVE GUESSED

FreedomFuckboi: YOUR WHOLE GODFORSAKEN FANDOM WORSHIPS HIM

DeathByDoctor: because hes fucking hot

FreedomFuckboi: true

DeathByDoctor: oH SHITE

FreedomFuckboi: WHAT IS IT MY DUDE

DeathByDoctor: MY ROOMMATE JUST BURST INTO OUR DORMAND SCARED THE FUCK OUT OF ME

FreedomFuckboi: HHAH

DeathByDoctor: JKDFKLVBS

DeathByDoctor: HES SO DRUNK IM GONNA SOB

FreedomFuckboi: cri cri

DeathByDoctor: THIS ISNT FUNNY THE LAST TIME THIS HAPPENED HE TRIED TO HAVE SEX WITH ME

FreedomFuckboi: DUDE W H A T

FreedomFuckboi: Tell him to stay in his lane or I'll come beat his ass

DeathByDoctor: WE JUST MET YOU TWAT

DeathByDoctor: but thank you for the offer

FreedomFuckboi: Anytime my homie;;

DeathByDoctor: …I think he's too tired to be perverted rn

FreedomFuckboi: yay~

FreedomFuckboi: so what college u at??? since u got a dorm and all

DeathByDoctor: Cambridge University

FreedomFuckboi: dAMN BOI :0 I'm at NCU;; i feel inadequate

DeathByDoctor: NCU?? i dont know American universities help me

FreedomFuckboi: North Carolina University,,we gotta fire basketball team

DeathByDoctor: you play?

FreedomFuckboi: nope,, baseball

DeathByDoctor: o

FreedomFuckboi: Im a pretty good pitcher if u know what i mean ;)

DeathByDoctor: holy fuck i forgot how gay you are

FreedomFuckboi: gay for you bby~ <3

DeathByDoctor: you don't even know what i look like

FreedomFuckboi: i could if you gaveme your number ;D

DeathByDoctor: sure,,

DeathByDoctor: 1·800·FUCKYOU

FreedomFuckboi: jokes on you ur sass is a huge turn on 

DeathByDoctor: omf o.0 

FreedomFuckboi: shit ur cute 

DeathByDoctor: shut uP 

FreedomFuckboi: not till i get dem digits

DeathByDoctor: n o

[FreedomFuckboi sent IMG.jpg]

DeathByDoctor: hOLY FUCK IS THAT YO U 

FreedomFuckboi: ravioli ravioli give me the number-oli

[DeathByDoctor has ended the chat session] 

~~

{1 new text message} 

Unknown #: guess who bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WROTE THIS ON A WHIM IN ONE SITTING HAHAHAHA WHAT THE FUCK


	18. Sp00ky shit (my titles need to die)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hetaween shit,, idk 
> 
> New beta! Credit to @pendulumlike for helping me with the editing of this fic!

Arthur’s green eyes glinted in the moonlight as they darted from place to place, searching for any sign of a lone figure in the dark forest. Unable to spot any threat, he rested his back against the tree he was sitting in, the rough bark scraping his shoulders through his finery. He licked his chapped lips and gazed down idly at the ground below him.

He was waiting for his prey.

He was waiting for the man with sandy blonde hair and a burnt orange overcoat, the man with sparkling blue eyes the popped out from behind his white mask, the man that gave a bright, happy chuckle before he raised his chainsaw…

Arthur was waiting for his love.

His white, silken gloves skimmed impatiently over the branch he had perched himself in. Any moment now, he told himself. Alfred would be here soon. After all, this woods was the only path where a murderer like Jones could travel through the night without being seen by law enforcements. Unlike the Brit, the American was a simple mortal and could not glide through the night as he did. Kirkland swelled with pride at the thought-being a vampire wasn’t anything new to him, but having a way to impress his prey wasn’t anything to sneer at.

A sudden crackle of leaves snapped the blonde man out of his thoughts.

He’s here.

The silhouette of a tall, stocky man lingered only a few feet below Arthur’s hiding place. He smirked. Brilliant. In one graceful motion, he leaped off of the branch and landed a few feet from Alfred, his midnight blue cape swishing around his figure with a mysterious and elegant air. He positioned his arm over his face, leaving only his emerald green eyes exposed, with shone with something like bloodlust. Arthur felt intensely joyous when he saw his prey’s reaction: a quick, startled turn. He truly succeeded in showing the disposition of a royal vampire.

“Who are you?” The American inquired, not moving from his guarded position. His blue eyes gleamed with distrust.

“Why, Alfred,” the Englishman chuckled lightly, slowly moving closer to his object of affection. “How on Earth do you not remember your old friend?” Recognition seemed to strike the younger man, and he straightened up, though he still seemed cautious. As he should be; I’m very frightening.

“Arthur,” The younger man growled. His voice rung with a tone the vampire couldn’t quite put his finger on. “Why are you out here? Shouldn’t you be with Francis or something?”

“Is it so wrong for me to want to come greet my mate?” Arthur exclaimed, his mouth forming a fake pout. He grinned at Alfred’s flustered expression.

“Firstly, I am no one’s mate, and secondly, I am in a bit of a rush here, but I suspect you might already know that.”

“And where are you so anxious to get to on Halloween night, love?” The regal blonde stepped closer to Alfred, playfully brushing his fingers through the taller man’s amber hair. His fanged smirk never left his mouth.

“If you must know, there’s been a report of a bunch of jerks kids in the next town over. I was on my way to dispose of them.” A frown was plastered across the murderer’s face for a few moments, then morphed to resemble the Brit’s puzzled face. Arthur wondered why he had so readily revealed that information, and the American seemed just as confused as he was. For a moment, both were silent.

The Brit quickly shook himself out of his confusion, trying to return to his previous confident attitude. He grabbed Alfred’s wrist and pulled towards him, so that they were standing pressed against each other. He didn’t have to fake a grin when he saw the tint of pink that appeared on the murderer’s face at their position.

“Oh, law enforcement will take care of them. It won’t hurt you to stay with me a little longer…” The vampire drawled, tracing a gloved finger down from the American’s broad shoulder to his lower back, relishing the feeling.He looked up, Alfred gave a visible gulp.

“Arthur, you’re acting strange...Have you been drinking?” The tone in Alfred’s voice seemed a bit friendlier, and though he was noticeably uncomfortable, he wasn’t making any moves to escape the vampire’s hold.

“No!” The Brit snapped indignantly, then fumbled to regain his composure. “I mean…” he coughed awkwardly. “...Of course not, love,”The smaller man managed to purr, smiling somewhat meekly. “What makes you think that I am?”

“Well, firstly, I’d never have thought that’d you go out of your way to find me,” the younger man began, “And secondly, you don’t usually seem so...cheery.” The last word seemed caustic on his tongue.

“You’ve only seen me when I’m around that awful man Francis,” Arthur droned, emerald eyes lingering on the bright orange of his prey’s overcoat, “Has it ever occurred to you that when I don’t have to monitor him, I might be able to act a bit…” The vampire had snaked his arm around the taller blonde’s neck; he pulled the American’s head dangerously close to his own, craning his own neck so that he could feel Alfred’s quick breath against his lips.

“...Different?”

The green-eyed man moved his gaze from the other blonde’s lips to his eyes, expecting to see them widen in surprise, like those of an animal caught in a trap. Instead, the murderer’s cobalt eyes blazed with an intensity to match his own. He seemed almost enraged. Arthur felt the pit of his stomach pool with fear, and it look all his willpower to not let the feeling register on his face.

Without warning, there was a wild switch of position. The Brit found his head inches from the ground in a low dip; Alfred held a firm hand on his lower waist and the other was entangled with the vampire’s, who was now gripping onto the American’s shoulder for dear life. The taller blonde wore a smug smirk on his face that borderlined a grin of insanity.

“Oh no you don’t,” Jones chuckled softly, his voice grim. “I have no intentions of being bitten tonight.” Before Arthur could utter a word in response, the younger man pushed his lips onto the Brit’s.

For a moment, the vampire was paralyzed. The feeling of the murderer's lips on his own was somehow both completely familiar and alien, but as the seconds wore on it began to matter less and less. Arthur began to return the kiss, tentatively. He could feel himself drowning in Alfred, and in the back of his mind he knew it wasn’t a wise choice to continue this, but he kept on. His sense of urgency was completely off track at the moment.

After almost a minute had gone by, the smaller man felt the American stiffen noticeably, as if he was being called back to reality. He quickly dropped Arthur to the ground and stood quickly, wiping his lip and looking down at the Brit as he softly panted. The vampire made no move to get up from the ground, he only stared wide-eyed at Jones, not understanding nor believing the situation. Alfred closed his eyes for a few moments, as if gathering himself. When he opened them again, they burned like rings of azure fire in the night, baring into Arthur’s own.

“I won’t fall your cheap tricks, Arthur. I don’t plan to become one of your brainless servants anytime soon.” He turned and took a few quick strides into the moonlit woods before glancing back over his shoulder and adding, “...But if you’d like to try again with a more earnest demeanor, I’ll be hiding away in the next town for two weeks.” With that said, he receded into the darkness of the night.

Arthur watched him go, feeling like he was in some sort of trance. He briefly wondered if that mysterious American might be a mage or alchemist. He certainly had put some sort of spell over the Brit that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> Oya oya oya! Hey guys, sorry for the awfully short chapter! Wanted to do something fun for Halloween, and here it is. Hopefully I'll have a new update around late November, stay tuned for that! Anyways, make sure to leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed! Thanks a million~
> 
> Signing Off,
> 
> @VacantCanadian


	19. This isn't a Chapter I'm Lying to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1 Year Anniversary of this fic!!
> 
> I had something written (partly), but I can't post it. 
> 
>  
> 
> THANK YOU FOR 1 YEAR OF AMAZING SUPPORT!

I   
CANNOT  
BELIEVE  
PEOPLE  
HAVE  
BEEN  
READING  
MY  
SHITTY  
WRITING  
FOR  
AN   
ENTIRE   
YEAR

 

Seriously, are y'all okay?!

Ahh, sorry I don't have any USUK goodness for you guys, but this fic turned a year old on Thanksgiving, and I wanted to tell you all how INCREDIBLY grateful I am for all your support. Writing is something that I really like to do, but I constantly lose faith in my skills and I could not have asked for a more supportive community. YOU. GUYS. ROCK. ANd you deserve a chapter, but school, another fic, and life and general are keeping me REALLY busy. In case I don't get around to writing again in time for Christmas, I'd like to take now to wish you all a very happy holidays! I love you all so much, thank you for reading my writing.

-VC


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